


Truths, Lies and Bilgesnipes

by wedgetail



Series: Truths and Lies [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Odin (Marvel)'s Parenting, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Odin (Marvel), Politics, Prequel, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 04:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19201960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedgetail/pseuds/wedgetail
Summary: There are children you can leave unsupervised for an afternoon without courting danger.To Odin's consternation, the two young princes of Asgard are not that kind of children. With Frigga absent and Odin distracted with the minutia of government, Thor and Loki sneak out of the palace on a bilgesnipe hunt. Their short adventure leaves Loki badly injured.But the physical injury is not as potent a force as the secrets Odin is determined to protect or Loki’s desperate need to live up to his father’s expectations.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out the story. A few things I'd like to note first up:  
> 1\. A warning - there is a child in considerable pain in the first chapter. Matters improve after that, but if that's not something you're not comfortable with, it might be best to skip this one.  
> 2\. I've taken considerable liberties with the physiology of bilgesnipes.  
> 3\. The plan is to update this fic fortnightly.

There were thirteen of them seated around the circular table and a further thirty-five relegated to the chairs that lined the walls. Odin knew this exactly because, despite his best efforts to lend his attention to his chancellor’s thorough and sage remarks about the pearl and semi-precious gem trade between Asgard and Alfheim, his attention kept straying. He simply found it more diverting to try to pick which of his staff and which of the elven delegates looked the least enthused to be stuck in these negotiations for the next week.

He noticed at once, therefore, when someone hesitantly pushed open the side door.  Findur, one of the senior palace guards, crept through the narrow gap he had afforded himself and skirted the edge of the room. There was no need for this act; no one had missed his entrance and no one was about to ignore it. His unscheduled intrusion was the most noteworthy event to have come out of nearly two full days of meetings.

Findur caught Odin’s eye and although his helmet concealed much of his face, there was something in Findur’s expression that left Odin uneasy. He motioned for Findur to hurry along and tilted his head up as Findur crouched down to whisper into Odin’s ear.

‘Sire,’ Findur whispered, ‘the Chief Healer has asked the queen to come down to the Medical Wing urgently. It concerns the princes, particularly Prince Loki. Since her majesty’s travelling, we thought you would want to know.’

Odin pushed his chair back a fraction until he could face the guard. ‘Do you know anything more?’

‘No, sire.’

Odin had just enough self-possession to remember that the physical health of the two heirs to the throne of Asgard was a matter of vital importance to the state — a fact Eir, the palace’s most senior healer, would be well aware of. She was no doubt attempting to avoid sending wild gossip flying through the palace and inevitably, out to the city beyond.

Her reticence with the facts didn’t help Odin of course.  Likely, Loki had played with some spell he shouldn’t have tried and Eir wanted Frigga’s assistance in dealing with the aftereffects. Yet the ‘urgently’ in the message didn’t sit well with Odin. He’d had trouble enough concentrating on the proceedings before, now he had no hope of keeping his mind on track and they had at least another two hours of work here before they finished for the night.

‘Please continue without me,’ Odin said loudly enough for his words to cut across Agnar’s continued exposition on peculiarities of import duties and export tariffs on various categories of pearls. ‘I must briefly attend to a pressing matter.’

He didn’t give the light elves time to respond. They were a haughty people and Crown Prince Amhlaith, who led the visiting delegation, was proving to be a particularly prickly specimen of his kind. Odin and his cabinet would have to smooth over this moment; Amhlaith was sure to take Odin’s abrupt departure as a slight. Presently, Odin didn’t care, he hurried over to the Medical Wing.

On arrival, he found the admissions bay empty, but the treatment room just past it was bursting with uniformed healers and trainees, the bulk of them crowded around a single Med Cradle. Odin almost missed Thor, who had pressed himself against a side wall. In the few patches that weren’t streaked with mud, the boy’s face was decidedly white.

‘Father?’ he mumbled. It wasn’t just Thor’s face, Odin realised, his hair was a muddy mess and his clothes had dark, wet splotches across the front, the origin of which Odin didn’t want to contemplate. ‘I’m sorry, we —’

‘What’s happened? What’s wrong with Loki?’ Odin demanded.

‘Ah, your majesty, I was expecting the queen,’ Eir said briskly.

Odin left the perfunctory tone to the formal address pass without comment. Eir had been a near contemporary of Odin’s mother, a fact neither Eir nor Odin ever forgot. ‘The queen is visiting some extended family.’

‘Of course, yes. That slipped my mind.’ Eir replied. She stood at the terminal that controlled the Med Cradle and seemed to be viewing a projection. A semi-opaque barrier had been set up around the top of the terminal to allow a healer to assess a patient’s progress discretely and from where Odin stood he could see only a small fraction of the three-dimensional image. ‘From what I gathered from Prince Thor, the boys were out in the forest and encountered a bilgesnipe. Somehow Loki became pinned underneath the body of the creature.’

Odin winced. Stifling a string of curses, he approached the cradle while the gathered medical personnel fell back to give him room. Loki stared up at the ceiling, his teeth gritted and sweat beading on his forehead. His head, his torso and his arms were uninjured save for some oozing wound across his right palm, which a healer had already covered with a white bandage. But his legs. The healers had cut away his boots and most of his trousers exposing the damage in full: broken bones, flesh swollen throughout and profusely bleeding wounds where the bilgesnipe’s razor-sharp spurs had sunk inches deep. It wasn’t right, a child should never have to experience anything like this.

Odin reached into the cradle and cupped Loki’s shoulder. ‘I know it hurts,’ he said in as even a voice as he could manage, ‘but you’re a brave boy, aren’t you? You’ll be all right. Eir and her healers will look after you.’

‘Lunda,’ Eir said, motioning to a healer out of the assembled gaggle. ‘Please take Prince Thor to an examination bay and verify he hasn’t sustained any injuries himself.’

‘I want to stay with Loki,’ Thor replied.

He pulled himself away from the wall and rushed to his father. Odin caught him before he got close to the Med Cradle. Eir was right — Thor didn’t need to be present for what was about to follow; the boy looked unnerved enough. ‘He’s in good hands and you’re no use to anyone if you’re not well yourself.’

Thor bristled. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Go with the healer and do not argue with me.’

Thor knew better than to argue further and, with his head slunk low, he allowed Lunda to lead him away. Odin could only hope her examination wouldn’t uncover any surprises. He wasn’t sure at all how to deal with Loki’s situation, let alone with two injured children.

He made a concerted effort to put that possibility out of his mind and refocused on Loki. However, his attempt to offer some words of comfort seemed to go unheard. Loki’s shoulders were drawn so tight they might as well have been carved of marble and his red-rimmed eyes stubbornly peered at the ceiling. ‘Eir, have you not given him any pain relief? He’s clearly in a pain.’

‘A great deal of it I expect,’ Eir responded. ‘We’ve tried pain relief and sedation. No effect. There won’t be any with the amount of venom those spurs released into his body.’

‘Allfathers have mercy.’ Odin had forgotten about the venom male bilgesnipes carried in their many spurs. The venom itself wasn’t deadly, but was sure to cause a number of unpleasant after-effects that could leave a grown man wishing he were dead. ‘What do we do then?’

Eir beckoned him over. ‘Let me show you on the projection.’

‘No,’ Loki cut in, ‘tell me what you're going to do.’

His words were somewhat slurred and he seemed short of breath, but he was coherent, which sent a wave of warmth through Odin’s chest. Eir gave Odin a questioning look and at Odin’s nod, she brought the projection over the top of the Med Cradle where Loki had a chance of seeing. It was a disheartening sight. The bones of his legs weren’t so much as broken as crushed, there were more pieces than Odin could count. Orange, which universally indicated trouble on medical charts, outlined Loki’s heart, liver and kidneys. Loki made a peculiar half-strangled sound and turned his face away from the projection.

‘Loki,’ Eir said in a gentle tone. ‘This is a scary situation, I realise, but listen to me, ok? We have a stock of anti-venom on hand here, but it’s slow-acting and will do very little with more venom leeching into your bloodstream. Four spurs broke off and are embedded in your thighs. The first thing we have to do is get them out. Does that makes sense?’

Loki nodded weakly and Eir offered him a warm smile in return.

‘I won’t lie,’ she went on. ‘It will hurt. We’ll be as quick as we can though.’

‘And after?’ Loki asked.

‘After, we should be able to give you something to make you sleep while we fix the rest of your injuries.’

Loki despised to be patronised and Eir’s tone verged on the line of Loki’s tolerance. Odin found himself sighing. As much as if infuriated him when Loki acted like a petulant child because he disliked the way someone had addressed him, Odin preferred to suffer through that tantrum than watch Loki stoically nod in agreement to Eir’s treatment plan.

Odin knelt by the side of the Med Cradle as Eir and her team rushed about pulling together the last of the equipment they would need. ‘Loki, don’t pay attention to what they are doing. Look at me and we’ll get through this together.’

‘What about the elves?’ Loki asked. Odin wanted to chastise himself for not anticipating the question. He had made it very clear to both boys how important these negotiations were and that they were absolutely not to disrupt the proceedings.

‘They will wait until tomorrow.’ Odin could see out of the corner of his eye that the frenetic activity of the medical staff had ceased. They seemed ready to begin. ‘Tell me, what do you know about the elves? Who rules them?’

‘King Erlendur,’ Loki replied.

‘And what’s his capital city?’

‘Ljo- Ljosalfgard.’

‘Good,’ Odin said. These were facts Loki had learned before he could read and write, but Odin needed to distract the boy with something. ‘And who’s the crown prince? You saw him at the feast the other night, do you remember that?’

‘That’s Amhlaith.’

Odin’s next question died on his lips as Loki jerked and quickly turned his head to face away from Odin. They had begun – EIr had two metal instruments sunk deep into Loki’s left thigh. Odin found Loki’s hands. Both the injured and the uninjured one were pressed tightly into fists. Odin massaged the back of Loki’s hands until Loki relaxed his fists just enough for to Odin push his thumb through the middle of Loki’s fist and twist his grip around so Loki grasped his hand properly. Or rather, crushed it.

‘How about Vanaheim?’ Odin asked. ‘Do you remember what the capital of Vanaheim is?’

Loki didn’t produce an answer. His jaw was so tight Odin feared they would have to repair half a dozen cracked teeth before the healers were done. In his time Odin had seen plenty of men mangled by a bilgesnipe in a similar fashion; bilgesnipe were territorial creatures, especially when they had a young litter to protect. Some men fainted from the venom’s side-effects and Odin half-wished Loki would too — an unconscious person didn’t feel pain.

The first spur took what seemed like half eternity. Loki breathed heavily, his face utterly devoid of colour and his eyes watering, but he didn’t produce a single sound. It was Odin who rejoiced when Eir drew out the first spur. Through the second and the third he merely muttered what he hoped were encouraging and comforting words; Loki didn’t seem to register them at all. At least those were swiftly extracted. The fourth, on the other hand, left Eir hissing in frustration.

‘What’s the matter?’ Odin snapped.

‘It’s splintered into three pieces in the wound,’ Eir replied. She sighed. ‘Loki, darling, bear with us. We’ll need to use a different approach to get everything out.’

Loki’s eyebrows drew together. ‘Sure,’ he said in a resigned tone. He sucked in a breath and pulled his lower lip between his teeth.

Odin closed his eyes as one of Eir’s assistants handed her a scalpel. He guessed when she began to make the incision by the way Loki’s hand clung tighter around his own, no doubt leaving crescent-shaped marks where his fingernails sunk deep into the skin on the back of Odin’s hand. There were no screams, however, or so much as a hiss of pain. Only the healers’ morose mutterings were audible.

‘Nearly there,’ Eir mumbled after a few minutes.

Odin tried to make sense of what they were doing, but didn’t get far. He turned back to Loki and his heart skipped a beat. Blood ran down the boy’s chin and dripped down onto his neck.

‘Where’s that blood coming from?’ Odin asked. He tried to pull one hand free, but Loki clung on too tightly. ‘Eir, hold on a moment.’

She either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore his words. Her focus was on a wound by Loki’s left knee, which her two assistant healers had pried open wider. Slowly, she extracted something solid from within and as her assistants drew out their instruments, she said, ‘I believe we’re done with this. You did really well, Loki.’

All tension fled from the boy’s body and his jaw slackened. He released his lip, which he had trapped between his teeth and Odin understood — Loki had bitten right through the flesh. The resulting wound bled profusely. Odin grabbed an unused roll of gauze from the tables the healers laid out their equipment on.

‘That’s not so good, child,’ Odin said, pressing the gauze against the wound.

Loki’s eyes widened; he mustn’t have realised what he’d done. But with that realisation, something within him snapped loose. Tears, which had welled up throughout the ordeal, suddenly burst out and the next thing Odin knew, Loki was sobbing. Gingerly, Odin lifted Loki’s upper body and brought the boy against his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he had held Loki while he cried like this.

‘Oh, my boy,’ Odin muttered. ‘There’s no need for tears now. The worst is over.’


	2. II

For the vast majority of their lives, Loki and Thor had slept in rooms within Odin and Frigga’s suite. They had fairly recently moved into small suites of their own across the hall. It had been a decision all parties concerned had embraced. Both boys relished the sense of independence their new accommodations had brought them; Odin and Frigga enjoyed the quieter atmosphere and in what felt like millennia, something that approached privacy.

But when Odin peered into Thor’s rooms, he was hardly surprised they stood empty. He instead found Thor seated at the broad dining table in Odin and Frigga’s suite. Several bowls filled with food were set out on the table; Thor wasn’t interested in any of it. He had pushed his plate away and sat with his elbows anchored against the tabletop and chin sunk into his hands.

Asta hovered over him, speaking animatedly. She was technically one of Frigga’s attendants — the boys were too old for a nanny, but she spent as much time corralling Thor and Loki as she did on managing Frigga’s correspondence and public engagements. As Odin strode in, he got the impression she had been cajoling Thor into eating, but she had been speaking too softly for Odin to hear and when she saw him, she fell silent altogether.

‘I’ll take it from here, Asta. Thank you,’ he said.

‘Of course, sire,’ she replied inclining her head lightly in his direction. ‘I hope the night is not as eventful as the day has been, for any of us.’

Thor lifted his head and his eyes followed the path of her departure, his expression growing more uncertain with every step she took. ‘Is Loki —’

‘He will recover,’ Odin said. ‘You’ll be able to visit him tomorrow or the day after.’

‘Oh, that’s good! I thought… well, everyone looked so very worried.’

Despite the smile that had broached Thor’s face, he remained ill at ease. He wore fresh clothing now and his hair was damp. Likely Asta had ordered him into a bath the moment she saw him. Hot water and what had probably been a generous amount of scrubbing had revealed a dark bruise across the line of his jaw. The bruise would be gone by the morning, but it did remind Odin that he had more than one traumatised child on his hands tonight. With a weary sigh, he sat himself down next to Thor — the seat Loki usually sat in when they dined as a family.

‘Can you tell me what happened today?’ Odin said in as even a tone as he could manage.

Thor balled his hands. ‘I’m really sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I know we shouldn’t have done it!’

‘Thor, start at the beginning.’

‘Sorry,’ Thor said. ‘The beginning? Um. Our history class was cancelled today — the tutor was sick. We were bored and even Loki agreed that the work we had from the other tutors was really dull. We ended up just talking about how the Valkyries used to hunt bilgesnipes for training. So we thought we should try that too. But then we found one and it was so much bigger than I thought it’d be. It was chasing me until Loki distracted it. But then his horse panicked and he was thrown off, so he ended up on foot. I brought a bow with me and I hit it with two arrows, but when I did, the beast fell on top of Loki.’

‘Did you kill it?’ Odin asked.

‘No, I-I don’t think so. It rolled over and sort of slunk off. I wasn’t sure if it was going to come back, so I dragged Loki away as quickly as I could.’ Thor winced. ‘Loki was screaming really loud then.’

Bilgesnipes had thick hides; Odin was rather surprised Thor’s practice arrows had inflicted sufficient injury to bring the creature down even briefly. But then Thor and Loki had snuck off into the forest to hunt bilgesnipe; you didn’t bring blunted arrowheads and wooden swords on a hunt.

‘Is he really going to be ok?’ Thor asked and after a momentary pause, went on, ‘I don’t know what happened to his horse. I couldn’t see it and I didn’t want to stay in the forest any longer, not with the chance the bilgesnipe might return. There’s probably more than one bilgesnipe in that forest too.’

‘There is a reason everyone in Asgard knows to avoid travelling through the forests in the foothills, especially during these months of the year,’ Odin replied.

Thor blushed. ‘It was a silly thing to do, I realise that.’

‘It was, very silly in fact. So whose idea was it? Yours? Or Loki’s?’

‘Loki’s!’ Thor responded quickly. Too quickly for Odin’s liking.

‘Is that so?’ he pressed.

Thor sucked in a breath then nodded emphatically. ‘Loki suggested it.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Odin said. Resolving to continue this discussion another day, he surveyed the food growing cold on the dining table. Thor had, in fact, eaten his fair share, except where the salad was concerned. There really was far more there than a child could eat; Asta must have hoped Odin would arrive in time to dine with Thor. ‘It’s time for bed now, I think. But let me guess, you haven’t completed your assignments, have you?

‘We didn’t, no.’

‘All right. I’ll have a note sent to your tutors explaining the circumstances and ask them to give you a day’s extension. When your work is done tomorrow afternoon and if Loki is feeling well enough, you may be permitted to visit him briefly. I will leave that to the healers’ discretion.’

‘Thank you, father,’ Thor said. ‘Good night then.’

As Thor pushed his chair back, Odin tapped his fingers against the mahogany tabletop. The boy wasn’t about to receive the reprieve he was hoping for.

‘One more thing,’ Odin said. ‘From now on, neither you nor Loki is to step outside this palace without my permission. I don’t even want you out in the courtyard unless you are at your lessons and under your teachers’ supervision.’

Thor nodded, then in a hesitant tone asked, ‘Just the one thing?’

‘For now. But don’t think this is the last you’ll be hearing about your deeds today. I want to speak with Loki before I decide whether this incident merits further punishment and what form that should take.’

Thor’s eyes made a jerky sweep of the room before settling on the floor. Odin bit back several choice comments. Thor’s behaviour didn’t impress, but it seemed premature to make the correction now. He would let Thor squirm with his guilty conscience for a while and see how events played out. Children could come to the right conclusion without interference. And if paternal interference was required, Thor would find this escapade with bilgesnipe hunting very instructive.

 

  


Odin stopped briefly by Loki’s bedchamber, then headed back to the Medical Wing. It was much quieter there now. The assistant healers and trainees had dispersed; Eir stood alone by the Med Cradle. She was carefully washing away remnants of dirt and blood from Loki’s face.

‘He continues to do just fine,’ she said with a warm smile.

Odin had known Loki wasn’t in danger; he had stayed in the Medical Wing until Eir and her assistants had finished the bulk of their work. Still, Eir’s words seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.

Or, some of the weight at least.

Eir, or one of her staff, had covered the lower half of Loki’s body with a soft woollen blanket, but his shirt had been taken off so Eir could clear him up. As he inhaled and exhaled, the lines of his chest bones were clearly visible beneath his pale skin. An encounter with a bilgesnipe was no minor incident for a grown man; it was far more serious for a child of Loki’s age and relatively delicate stature.

‘I brought up one of his night-shirts,’ Odin said. ‘I thought he would feel better if he is in something familiar when he wakes up.’

‘A good idea,’ Eir replied as she gently patted Loki’s chin dry with a towel. ‘It’ll be easiest if you can hold him up while I get him dressed.’

Odin nodded, he rarely had to dress a sleeping child, but he had experience enough to know how cumbersome it could be to do so unassisted. He had also brought over a book Loki had sitting on his bedside table. He set it down on one of the trays by the Med Cradle, then put one hand behind Loki’s head and slipped the other under the boy’s lower back. It was only then that he noticed a clear wire running from under a bandage over the crook of Loki’s right arm up to a semi-rigid canister suspended in the air beside Eir. The canister was half-filled with a clear substance that seemed to be dripping into the wire.

‘What purpose does this serve?’ Odin motioned to the spot where the wire met Loki’s air.

Eir slipped Loki’s indigo nightshirt over the boy’s head and manoeuvred his left arm through the sleeve. ‘He lost a considerable amount of blood today. I can’t give him anything from our supplies; this is an alternate way to replenish his system. The drip slows the delivery; his body would be overwhelmed if the entire quantity is sent into his bloodstream all at once.’

‘What’s wrong with your supplies?’

‘The blood replenishers we have use Asgardian blood as a base. I don’t even have anything suitable to create one appropriate for Loki, let alone stock on hand.’

She let Loki’s head rest in Odin’s palm as she disconnected the wire, slipped Loki’s right arm into the sleeve and reconnected the drip. Once they lay Loki back down Odin thought indigo hadn’t been the best choice, it contrasted too heavily with the colourlessness of Loki’s skin and highlighted the heavy bags under Loki’s eyes.

‘Why not use his own blood as a base?’

‘His blood is laced with venom. It’d take two days of work to eliminate all traces of the venom from any sample I could collect today.’

‘Right, of course.’ Odin sighed. ‘Are you certain he will recover without blood replenishment?’

Eir offered him a dark look as she pulled over a wheeled bed. ‘Somewhat more slowly, but it won’t affect the outcomes long term.’

She left unsaid what had to be her next thought: _What would you do about it if his life were in danger?_ Eir was one of the few on Asgard who knew. Odin and Frigga had little notion about how to care for a frost giant baby, especially one who had been left out exposed to the cold for many hours and had developed a severe lung infection by the time Odin had brought him to Asgard. If not for Eir, Loki likely wouldn’t have survived another week. But she had always her opinions about the way Loki had been brought into the royal family — opinions Odin was in no mood to listen to tonight.

‘Frigga’ll be beside herself when she hears about this,’ he said. ‘Although I do wish she were here. Loki and Frigga are so close, I’m sure he would be more comforted by her presence than mine.’

‘You did just fine earlier. Will you help me move him?’

Odin nodded. Loki barely weighed anything. If it was merely a matter of weight, Eir would have had no trouble moving Loki on her own. But when she pulled off the blanket off Loki, she exposed the semi-rigid braces that ran along the length of Loki’s legs. As, with Odin’s assistance, she gently manoeuvred Loki into the wheeled bed, she must have seen something in his face.

‘It’s not as dire as you’re no envisioning,’ she said. ‘Healed bones take time to fully harden and the ligaments and tendons to find their proper shape. There is still a great deal of swelling throughout too. The braces will protect from any further damage, especially when he finds some energy again.’

Odin drew the blanket back over Loki, pulling it all the way up to the boy’s chin. ‘How long will he have to wear these? Or is there always going to be some damage?’

‘I believe some scars will remain. A wound touched by venom seldom heals fully. The braces will only be for a week or two. There may be lingering stiffness for some further weeks afterwards.’

‘But he’ll walk and run and –-’

‘If some patience is had for the recovery process to complete,’ Eir replied and Odin had the suspicion he, Frigga and Loki would be hearing echoes of these words over the coming weeks and possibly months. She raised the side railings on the bed. Odin, meanwhile, moved Loki’s book from the medical tray to the bed. ‘I think it’ll be better if he stays in a room in the adult ward, not the children’s one.’

The Medical Wing at the palace was fully equipped to treat every sort of injury, but it was not a proper hospital. When there were serious, long-term cases, once they were stabilised, patients were typically transferred to the public hospital in the city. But most of Eir’s patients could receive follow-on treatment in their own quarters in the palace. The wing, therefore, had little permanent space dedicated for in-patient beds — two rooms for adults and one for children, all capable of accommodating four beds each.

‘Why not the children’s?’ Odin asked, careful not to let the bed slip out of his control while they rounded a corner.

‘I have two girls in there with the pox.’

‘Loki’s had it, there’s no reason to worry about him catching it.’

Eir pointed to one of the doors further down the corridor. ‘I remember,’ she said. ‘It’s more that the girls are quite high-spirited even while ill. I don’t think Loki would appreciate their company.’

‘Likely you’re right.’

The door Eir had pointed to opened to an empty dormitory intended for sick adult residents of the palace. Odin himself had spent a night here once or twice. They decided to let Loki have the bed next to the window, in part because there was already an armchair there that Odin thought looked comfortable enough to be sat in for a few hours at a time.

‘Are you sedating him through the night?’ he asked.

Eir shook her head. ‘I’m hoping the sedation will wear off soon and then we can persuade him to sleep on until morning on his own. Natural sleep is more beneficial than one derived from anaesthetics. He should come around in an hour so. Do you want to sit by him meanwhile?’

‘I will.’

‘I’ll be in and out to check on the two of you.’

She dimmed the lights and left Odin to watch over Loki by himself. The room lacked a clock and heavy clouds dominated the sky, so there was no hope of telling the time of the night from the position of the stars. Odin fretted in his seat, adjusting the blanket around Loki and his thoughts jumping from the diplomatic negotiations he had abandoned, to Frigga’s absence, to Thor and inexorably, back to anxious fears about Loki’s welfare.

In an attempt to stop the chaotic roiling of his mind, Odin picked up Loki’s book and opened it up. The book was old, some of the ink fading and the pages yellowing around the edges. It was one of those adventure stories popular among Asgardian boys — full of warriors fighting dangerous beasts and competing for the hearts of fair women. Flicking through the pages, Odin had the inkling that he too must have read it in his youth, although he couldn’t remember much of the storyline. But Loki must have found it quite entertaining; he had left a bookmark tucked in three chapters from the end.

Loki rolled his head to the side. Odin closed the book and set it aside, but his son wasn’t yet ready to join the world of the woken. Loki emerged from the sedation slowly, for many minutes only the occasional small movement of his arms or head suggested that he was verging on consciousness. To Odin’s elation, however, eventually Loki’s eyelids did flicker open.

‘Hello there,’ he said softly.

‘Father?’ Loki responded. His voice came out raspy and his eyes were still bleary as he looked around the shadowed room. His shoulders stiffened. ‘Where am I?’

‘You’re in the palace Medical Wing. Do you remember what happened?’

Loki was silent for a long while, his eyes not quite focused on anything solid, then he nodded. ‘We went out to the forest and there was a bilgesnipe. Thor brought me back to the palace.’ He tucked his chin down almost to his chest and when he continued, Odin could barely make out what he was saying. ‘The healers had to get the spurs out and I — You must be very angry with me.’

‘I certainly have no cause to be pleased with you or your brother.’

Odin had quite a few words on his mind about the matter, but he left him for another day — Eir had returned and seeing that Loki was aware, she hurried over to his bed. ‘Now look at that, our young prince is with us again. I’ve missed those big green eyes of yours. How are you feeling, Loki?’

‘Tired, I guess,’ he replied hesitantly. ‘It doesn’t hurt as much now.’

‘But it still hurts,’ Odin said.

‘Not that much. It’s fine. I’ll be fine,’ Loki replied and it was clear that he was forcing certainty into his words that he didn’t necessarily feel. Gritting his teeth, he propped himself up on his elbows.

Odin tried to catch Eir’s eye and give her a meaningful look in regards to a new dose of pain relief for Loki, but the woman was preoccupied with pulling up a screen above Loki’s bed. The screen showed a great many words and numbers that remained incomprehensible no matter how hard Odin tried reading into them. Eir, however, found something in that information that left her frowning.

‘Lie back down, darling,’ she said. ‘Your heart is still working very hard. I want you to rest as much as you can now and I don’t think you’ll be resting well if your body is aching. So I’m going to give you something to help with that and after, your father and I will leave you alone so you can get back to sleep. It’s very late in the evening. Well past your bedtime I expect.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Loki mumbled.

Odin had to rein in a sigh. Loki’s quick acquiescence was a testament to his exhaustion — he wasn’t one to quietly go to bed when told.


	3. III

Loki had been awake for all of twenty minutes. Already, all the wanted to do what to drag his blanket up over his head and sleep the rest of the week away.

It wasn’t that Lunda, the healer examining him, was mean. She smiled warmly at him and spoke in a cheerful tone. Whenever Eir turned her attention to Loki, even when she cooed at him like as if were a squealing newborn, she still seemed brisk — like Loki was a distraction from her real duties. Lunda sounded like she had nothing save Loki to occupy herself with. Ordinarily, that would have been nice; most of the adults in the palace had more important tasks to do than to pay attention to children.

But Loki was feeling absolutely wretched this morning. Everything ached. Certainly, it wasn’t the same searing pain of the previous day, but it was enough that Loki struggled to concentrate and Lunda’s very thorough investigation of his legs only made it worse. He wished he could simply tell her to go away.

‘Did my father say if he would visit?’ Loki asked instead. As much as he wanted to know the answer, he was equally interested in a way to disrupt Lunda’s work.

He seemed to succeed; Lunda’s hand grazed Loki’s hip as she drew back her hands. ‘He came by this morning, while you were still asleep. He couldn’t stay long, but he said he would visit again in the evening.’

‘I’ll have to be awake for that then.’

‘First and foremost, you need to rest,’ Lunda replied. ‘Right now, if that means sleeping through most of the day, so be it. You really gave us all a fright, Loki. You father has been very concerned.’

Loki knew that much; he wasn’t an imbecile. His father wasn’t in the habit of sitting by his sons' beds in the middle of the night. But that didn’t mean Loki wouldn’t have to answer for his behaviour. Loki’s memory of the previous was fogged with grogginess, but he remembered enough. _I have no cause to be pleased with either of you_. Thor probably received his punishment already, Loki was next.

He chewed on his thumbnail. He wasn’t at all sure what awaited. There was the whole matter of the bilgesnipe hunt, but he hoped the fact he had tried to lure the beast away from his brother and paid for his trouble would earn him a measure of clemency. But afterwards? He had tried to control himself, truly tried, but he had still ended up bawling like a baby in his father’s arms. Just the thought of it left Loki cringing.

‘Loki, don’t bite your nails,’ Lunda said softly.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, pulling his hand away from his mouth. The effort seemed futile though. Gossip was a valuable commodity among most of the palace staff and the healers were probably no better than the cleaners or the cook’s apprentices. Everyone in Asgard likely knew by now that their prince was a cry-baby, what did it matter if Loki was a nail-biter too.

‘Why don’t I bring you some breakfast? You must be getting hungry by now.’

He wasn’t. If anything, there was a pit of anxiety where his stomach should have been and even a bite of a piece of bread seemed like too much effort. He had a feeling, however, that the healers wouldn’t listen to him if he said he didn’t want food, so he just nodded. Still smiling pleasantly, Lunda tucked the blanket around Loki’s legs.

Eir appeared in the doorway. Her grey hair was pulled into a tight braid this morning, a hairstyle which Loki realised, Lunda was attempting to imitate with her own much-shorter, copper-hued hair. Or perhaps it was just a style healers found practical. Loki remembered Asta once remarking that she preferred to have her hair tied back while she worked.

‘How’s our progress this morning?’ Eir asked, looking at Lunda rather than Loki.

‘I’m about to fetch him breakfast,’ Lunda replied. ‘He seems to be a running a low-grade fever still. Not that the scanner will tell you as much. I’m not sure what’s wrong with it, but if that temperature was accurate, he should be showing all signs of hypothermia.’

‘There must be a fault with the sensor. I’ll have a look at it when I have a chance.’

With the attention away from him, Loki rolled over to his side and pulled the blanket as tightly around himself as he could manage. Its warmth was heavenly, he wanted to drown in it. He closed his eyes and permitted himself to drift back to sleep, but the healers’ voices kept him anchored to a base level of consciousness.

‘It might be a wider issue,’ Lunda said. ‘The temperature reading on the Med Cradle was showing the same ludicrous result yesterday.’

Eir groaned. ‘Wonderful. I’ll have to look into it. But never mind that now, go find the prince some food.’ There was a pause, then a cool hand ran slowly across Loki’s forehead and he heard Eir again. ‘What are we to do with you, child?’

When Loki reopened his eyes, Eir was peering down at him, her expression thoughtful.

‘I think that’s for my father to decide,’ he said, frowning.

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

Eir shook her head, then launched into a list of questions for Loki to answer, the majority of which he had already answered for Lunda. He tried not to mumble through his answers — princes didn’t mumble, but he didn’t have the energy to summon more than one or two words at a time, which didn’t impress Eir either. It was a relief when Lunda walked back into the room, carrying a tray.

But then she set it down in front of Loki and the steam rising off the porridge — oats sweetened with honey — wafted into the air. Loki’s stomach recoiled. ‘I don’t, um…’

‘You don’t like porridge?’ Lunda suggested.

Loki didn’t have any strong thoughts about porridge in either direction. It wasn’t what he would have chosen, but he had never minded eating it either. Yet bile was rising in his throat.

‘No, porridge is fine,’ he said in as nonchalant a manner as he could manage. ‘I’m just not sure I’m all that hungry.’

‘Eat what you can manage then,’ Eir replied.

 

 

‘And in summation, the situation out there is every bit as dire out there as we feared,’ Agnar concluded.

Unfortunately for Odin, when his chancellor made his point, it didn’t necessarily mean he had nothing more to say. Agnar went on, explaining in substantial detail the devastation the earthquake and the subsequent landslides caused to the villages of Adra Taeral.

Odin was certainly far from unsympathetic. Thousands had lost their homes and livelihoods. The count of the dead was still being made, but it would be in the hundreds. But the situation presented a headache for Odin on a personal level. The people of Asgard expected their king to pay attention to an event of this magnitude. Odin himself should have been out there in the villages, supervising the relief efforts and putting together plans for the reconstruction. Except the elves — the haughty elves, who perpetually searched for something to be offended by — couldn’t be shuffled off to the side, so Odin had made the decision to send Frigga to Adra Taeral on his behalf instead.

There was no recalling her now, not without sparking outrage. It would look like the royal family chose to abandon the people in the outer regions at their darkest hour. Yet Odin had the nagging thought that Thor and Loki, especially Loki, needed more attention than Odin was able to offer him right now. Odin was, after all, getting this brief from Agnar at eleven o’clock at night and while Odin was on his way to the Medical Wing.

‘Whatever resources they need out there, have it arranged,’ Odin said when he found a gap in Agnar’s words. ‘No delays, no bureaucratic nonsense. I want my wife back before the year’s end.’

‘Of course,’ Agnar replied. He switched the topic then back to the elven negotiations and that was no more pleasant a subject. The afternoon sessions had achieved nothing save leaving all parties irate. Agnar paused only when they reached a winding corridor that connected to the Medical Wing. ‘It’s rather late in the evening. I think we can settle on the strategy ahead tomorrow morning. Or do you wish to continue with this tonight?’

‘I would like to see a new proposal ready first thing tomorrow.’

Agnar nodded curtly. He knew his king well; he had probably been anticipating this very answer and had already been preparing himself to be up through the night while he and his staff scrambled to come up with an alternative approach to the proposed reductions on import duties. ‘Do pass on to Loki my good wishes for a speedy recovery.’

Odin assured his chancellor that he would and continued towards the Medical Wing while Agnar marched off in the opposite direction. Three of Eir’s personnel were still hard at work. There was a middle-aged woman in a guard’s uniform getting her hand treated, which occupied a healer and a trainee. Another healer seemed to be busy cross-checking inventory levels in the cupboards against the list in her hand. Eir herself was about too, she emerged from her office just as Odin was about to walk past it.

‘If I may, sire,’ she said, ‘a word before you see him.’

Odin swivelled sharply. ‘What’s the matter? Has something gone awry?’

‘Yes and no,’ Eir replied in a low tone. She guided him further down the hall, as far away from her staff as she could take him without leaving the Medical Wing altogether. ‘One of my healers noticed an anomaly in Loki’s temperature readings. The sensors here rightly pick it up as far too low for an Asgardian.’

‘What? How could you let this happen?’ Odin hissed.

‘Is it my fault your spells are not foolproof?’

Odin swallowed a number of foul words in reply and forced himself to something resembling a civil tone. ‘Has this person extrapolated anything from this information?’

‘She thought it was a problem with the sensor. I didn’t disabuse her of that notion, but she has pointed it out that she has already noticed the same “problem” on a second sensor in here.’ Eir tapped the tips of her fingers together. ‘She’s an intelligent woman, and an observant one.’

The implication unnerved Odin in much the same way Loki’s physical injuries the previous day had. It was certainly true: no illusion or concealment spell, no matter how tightly woven, hid all. If it betrayed Loki’s real bodily temperature, which was naturally far lower than common among the Asgardians, there might well be other revealing clues. The woman might get curious, rumours might spread throughout the palace. It was possible she might bring it up with Loki and the boy might start drawing conclusions of his own.

‘Can you keep her away from him?’ Odin asked.

‘It would look rather odd. Might not be too effective either. She has already raised it with a number of other staff and they too possess a modicum of intelligence.’

‘Then he can’t stay here any longer.’

Eir sighed. ‘I think he still needs to be watched closely for the next couple of days. He’s still running a fever and certainly not mobile. Norns, he was fast asleep when his brother came to visit him. And we’ve barely managed to get two bites of food into him today.’

‘You managed to treat him without condemning him to this place before, even back when he had that horrid chest infection. Figure it out. Besides, one of my wives attendants has stayed back in the palace and she keeps an eye over the boys. Surely between you all, I can expect my child to be adequately looked after.’

‘As you wish then, your majesty,’ Eir responded tersely. ‘I’ll have him moved to a bed in his own suite tomorrow morning.’

‘Good.’ Odin massaged his temple. ‘And be better prepared in the future. The blood replenisher, now the temperature sensor… He’s likely to need treatment here again at some point and we need to remain circumspect.’

‘I’ll do everything I can. As I always have.’

Odin could tell from Eir’s sour tone that she had thoughts of her own in regards to Loki and his circumstances, but Odin was in no mood to dwell on this any further. ‘I trust that you will, Eir. Now, excuse me, I’d like to see my son sometime before midnight.’

To his surprise and mild dismay, Loki was still awake. He sat propped up against at least three pillows and had a book open in his hand, but rather that reading, he was staring out the window. As Odin approached his bed, he offered his father an uncertain smile.

‘How are the negotiations going?’ he asked.

‘You should be asleep at this hour,’ Odin said.

‘I slept through the afternoon and half the evening today. One of the healers said you’d planned to come by tonight, I thought I’d try to stay awake a while in case you did.’ Loki closed the book and set it aside. It was a different one to the book Odin had brought over for him the previous evening. ‘Have there been any news from mother?’

Odin pulled up the chair by Loki’s bed closer and took a seat. ‘The negotiations are proceeding as they always do — slower than the turn of a galaxy. As to your mother, she’s very busy with the disaster relief. I hoped she might be able to return a little earlier than planned, but that doesn’t seem a likely prospect now. But never mind all that. How are you?’

‘I’m ok.’

Odin waited for Loki to elaborate; he was an articulate child when he wanted to be. This moment, however, wasn’t one of those times.

Looking at him closely, Odin understood why Eir wanted Loki to stay under her watchful eye for now. While the drip was gone, the pale, unhealthy tint to his skin remained and there was a sheen of sweat around his brows. A blanket was stretched over Loki’s legs so Odin couldn’t see the progress there. But Loki liked to curl up, almost like a cat, while he read and now he sat with his legs rod straight out in front of him.

‘Are your legs aching?’ Odin asked.

Loki hesitated momentarily, before responding. ‘It’s fine; the healers are looking after me. Did anyone find Nieven?’

‘Nie… your horse? Not that I’ve heard. I’ll send a message to the stable-master and get the matter cleared up.’ Odin ran his hand over Loki’s unruly mop of black hair and smoothed out a few locks, but the chaos needed thorough work with a brush. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be riding again soon enough.’

‘I am? You said you were angry with both Thor and me. And you should be, with me particularly.’

‘Why you particularly?’ Loki tensed and instead of offering a reply, sucked in his lips between his teeth. Odin contemplated cutting off the discussion there and then. Loki didn’t really want to have this conversation and Odin didn’t either. It was late, Loki looked little better than death warmed over and shouldn’t even be awake at this hour. But knowing Loki, Odin suspected the boy wouldn’t manage much restful sleep if Odin forced this discussion off to another day. ‘Loki, was it your idea to go on this bilgesnipe hunt?’

‘What does it matter whose idea it was? It wasn’t as if one of us dragged the other against his will,’ Loki replied. ‘It’s just Thor managed to stay on his horse and I didn’t.’

Odin smiled. ‘Thor told me the beast was after him until you distracted it.’

‘I think I just made everything worse as a result,’ Loki replied. He inhaled deeply, then seemed to build himself up to something. ‘Father,’ he said in a stiff, entirely unchildlike manner, ‘I know an apology isn’t enough, but I am sorry about yesterday. And I’ll try to do better from now on.’


	4. IV

‘Your highness, don’t be afraid to rest your bodyweight on me,’ Caunas said. He had been tasked with Loki’s follow up care after Loki had been discharged. Supposedly, he was one of the most promising healers under Eir’s tutelage, but he didn’t look like much. Caunas was a short and skinny man, who dressed in clothes too wide for him, which only made him seem slighter. Loki hesitated to lean too heavily on him.

Yet as they moved away from Loki’s bed and toward the round table on the other end of the room, each step was more difficult than the previous. Loki ended up digging his hands into the heavy fabric of Caunas’s overcoat.

‘Why does everything have to feel so stiff?’ Loki mumbled.

The braces, which had been replaced with more compact, semi-rigid ones the previous night contributed, but the stiffness was mostly in his legs. The resulting feeling was vile. It was as everything under his skin wasn’t entirely his own — dead wood trapped within living flesh. The sole exception was the ache that rolled through his lower thigh every time Loki moved his right leg. Originating somewhere deep within, as if from the bone itself, that ache was vivid and alive.

Having received no response from Caunas, Loki gritted his teeth and ventured a few steps further until Caunas backed himself into the table. Loki’s textbooks had been stacked on there; they went flying.

‘Pardon me, your highness,’ Caunas said. He peered sharply at Loki, perhaps remembering anew his purpose in Loki’s bedchamber, then pried the sleeves of his overcoat out of Loki’s hands. He hurriedly stacked the books back into place. ‘How does it feel today?’

 _Much the same._ Loki felt himself sway a little; he wasn’t entirely sure of his footing. ‘Better than yesterday. Definitely.’

‘Good. Now back to the bed, your highness.’ Caunas frowned. ‘If you are feeling up to it, of course, your highness.’

Loki wasn’t sure he had ever heard ‘your highness’ be used by any single person so liberally before; it verged on a verbal tic. He wasn’t sure either if he was feeling up to the shuffling journey back to his bed. But he wasn’t about to admit that. Slowly, and with Caunas now trailing behind him rather than pulling him along, Loki worked his way back. He had to thank the Norns that Caunas was behind him and couldn’t see how badly he grit his teeth.

‘Good, good, your highness,’ Caunas said quickly while Loki, verging on woozy now, awkwardly clambered back onto his bed. ‘Uh, what else was there? The…’

‘It’s fine. It’s all getting better, just takes time, doesn’t it?’ Loki cut in. He furrowed his brows as he wrestled with what he ought to say next. ‘Speaking of time. You were explaining before, it takes three weeks for the cultures to mature. But what happens if you leave them for an extra week?’

As Loki expected, Caunas’ face lit up. The healer was probably brilliant in his own manner, but he wasn’t destined for a career in patient care. He was neither particularly good at it nor at all interested. He was dedicated to understanding the evolution of viruses. Or some particular strand of viruses anyway. Loki didn’t understand so much as a quarter of what Caunas said to him, but Loki liked that Caunas was passionate about his laboratory work. If Loki kept asking Caunas questions, Caunas remained too distracted to ask Loki any. He had forgotten even to take a measure of Loki’s temperature this morning.

In the end, Loki overplayed his hand. Caunas blabbered on far too long before he finally decided to dash back to his laboratory — Loki’s head had begun to throb at all the long words that held no meaning for him. Loki massaged the sides of his head, then buried himself under his three layers of blankets once more. Unfortunately, Loki didn’t get to enjoy the warmth and serenity of his bed for long. Asta strode in with a tray of food.

She set the tray down on the bed next to Loki. There was more than enough space. His bed was sized to accommodate the height of a grown man and wide enough that Loki could sleep across it without his feet dangling off his mattress.

 ‘Or would you rather sit at the table?’ Asta asked. ‘You don’t want to spill the soup all over.’

‘You’ve already set it down here,’ Loki replied. The tray accommodated a folded napkin, a side-plate with three slices of rye bread and a small bowl of raspberries and blackcurrant, but most of the tray was taken up by a broad, lidded bowl. He lifted the lid off. The soup was still steaming hot. It was a thick meaty broth with carrots, peas, potatoes and beans bobbing within. Loki’s stomach grumbled in protest as the smell reached his nostrils. He went for the bread instead.

‘Eat the soup, don’t fill up on bread,’ Asta said.

‘Why bring it if I’m not supposed to eat it?’

Even the bread proved a trial. By the time he had worked through one slice, something acidic was building up in Loki’s throat. Rather than biting into the second slice, he started tearing off chunks of the soft, still warm bread from the middle and left the crust on the plate.

‘Loki, what are you doing?’ Asta let out an irritated huff. ‘Pick up the spoon and eat the soup. It’ll be cool enough by now.’

Loki sighed and tugged at the napkin; the kitchen staff tucked the cutlery into the cloth. He had to shift the bowl into his lap too; Asta was right — it was easier to eat soup while seated at a dining table. Although he made sure to only spoon up broth, his stomach began churning before the spoon even reached his mouth; the smell was too pungent for Loki’s unremitting nausea.

‘I think I’m just not hungry,’ he said. ‘Thank you —’

Asta’s lips pursed. ‘If you want to get better any time soon, you need to eat. And I’m not going to sit here coaxing you into swallowing that soup spoonful by spoonful. I’m the queen’s under-secretary, I have important matters to settle today.’

‘Good. ‘Cause I don’t intend to eat any of this.’

‘I think you’d best watch your tone. Illness is no excuse for ill manners.’

‘Fine. Asta, would you be so kind please as to remove this food from my presence?’ Loki retorted as he moved the soup bowl off his lap and placed it back onto the tray.

But Asta just lifted up the entire tray and set it down on Loki’s legs, which sent needles whirring through the lower half of his body. Ignoring his gasp, she replied, ‘Shall I have your father come over here and make sure you eat? He’ll certainly have no patience for your attitude.’

‘He’ll come and then he’ll order you dismissed. Do you really think he’ll consider it acceptable to have his meeting with the Crown Prince of Alfheim interrupted just because it’s lunchtime and his child happens to not be hungry?’ Loki said. He lifted the tray up an inch; just enough for it not to press down on his legs. ‘A king has to prioritise his day and I’m far from the top of that list.’

Asta sucked in a long breath and for a moment, she seemed to want to say something, only to decide against it. She placed the lid back over the soup bowl, then took the tray out of Loki’s hands and moved it over to the table. Only then did she turn her attention back to Loki.

‘So be it, Loki. I will leave the food here; the soup’ll be hot a while yet,’ she said. She took care to sound calm. ‘You barely ate half your breakfast, so if you’re not hungry yet, you’ll be soon enough. I’ll still be just on the other side of the door, working from your desk. Call me if you need any assistance.’

Loki recognised a peace offering when he was granted one, so he nodded. ‘Thank you, Asta. I’ll let you know if I have any trouble.’

 

 

Smiling a little, Loki slid his fingers along the rim of his bedchamber table. He had a long way to go, but he felt more confident on his feet today.

Or perhaps, he was merely becoming accustomed to the odd sensation of his lower limbs not being quite his own. Nor was his stomach cooperating either. He had managed the bread and a couple of pieces of the cold meats he’d been served at breakfast. Lunch had just dissolved into another argument with Asta; Loki had been thoroughly tempted to just fling the entire tray into her face. She, in turn, had threatened to drag him back to the Medical Wing.

And now dinner sat waiting for Loki. He pulled the lids off the two covered plates.  Noodles coated in fried eggs and spices, a fillet of white fish on the side. After the vile stuffed capsicums he’d been served at lunch — a dish he had despised as far back as his memory stretched, this was a relief. He wondered if it was a stroke of luck or if Asta had asked the kitchen staff to make him this in an effort to apologise for before. Or maybe, it was a test on Asta’s part. Loki could be picky about food — he wasn’t about to deny that, but he never turned down fish or fried noodles.

He almost wished Asta had stayed a little longer after she had brought in the tray. Something else had her in a frenzy this afternoon. She had set the tray down and hurried out with barely a glance in Loki’s direction, so he hadn’t had the chance to get a good sense of her mood.

He picked up a fork and dug it into the fish until he carved out several chunks, which he then transferred atop the noodles. The noodle bowl in hand, he lumbered over to the windowsill. All windowsills in his and Thor’s suites were wide, easily wide enough for a child to sit on one and read. Or to merely peer out the window and watch proceedings in the courtyard below.

‘Just eat half of this,’ Loki muttered. ‘Otherwise, it’ll be another lecture from Asta. Or worse.’

The noodles were coated in the savoury and slightly spicy sauce he had always loved, but now he nearly gagged. He forced himself to chew and swallow what was already on his fork. The steam rising from the bowl warmed his face. Cold food seemed to be easier to get down, he just needed to wait until the noodles and the fish cooled. He stuck the fork into the noodles and placed the bowl down on the floor below the windowsill.

Loki rested the side of his head against the window-frame and peered down to ground level. The window overlooked a broad courtyard. Loki sometimes missed his old nursery room because of this; the windows there had overlooked his mother’s garden. Here, he got to look down on the busiest and ugliest courtyard in the entire palace complex. There were three levels of various living quarters below Loki’s suite; chancellery offices were located on the left-hand side of the courtyard; headquarters of the palace guard were to the right; and the archway at the far end led through to the stables. People were constantly coming and going. And amid all that foot-traffic, this courtyard also hosted combat-training sessions.

He had been served his dinner far earlier than he would have been ordinarily; he supposed it made sense — he had barely touched his lunch, so he should have been hungry by now. But he’d slept through half the afternoon; he hadn’t expended enough energy to justify being hungry. He just wanted to be down in the courtyard with Thor and the rest of the students in their class.

It wasn’t that Loki missed combat training. If pushed to be honest, Loki would have to admit he hated just about everything about it. But he needed the practice. He wasn’t jealous at how good Thor was at it either (despite what Sif claimed). He outpaced Thor in many other things; he wouldn’t have minded at all to be second-best at something for once. Except he wasn’t second best. He was easily the worst in his class.

And everyone on Asgard knew it. There were always people hurrying across the courtyard, so there was always an audience when Loki ended up disarmed or clobbered into the ground. It was humiliating.

Leifur, their combat-master, didn’t know what to do with a coward like Loki. For months now he had pulled Loki out of sparring every single training session and Loki would have one-on-one lessons with Leifur instead. That was humiliating in its own right; Loki apparently wasn’t competent enough to even try sparring with the other students. It was nerve-racking too — certainly the most stressful part of Loki’s day.

He wasn’t sure how tall Leifur was, but he had to be something like seven feet. Looking at him now, talking to the students who were all crowded in a tight circle around him, the man looked easily twice their height. And his shoulders were broader than Loki’s father’s. Leifur always started the lessons with the simplest of moves, but they never stayed simple and every mistake earned you a whack across the top of your helmet or across the side of your thigh. It didn’t hurt. Not unless he was angry.

But the worst was actually when you hadn’t made any mistakes for a while. He would start to do one move, but then trick you and do something completely different. It made sense, sure, you couldn’t expect to always know what your opponent’s next move would be. But Leifur was a huge man, scarred from what had to be hundreds of battles and during one-on-one lessons, a helmet was the only protection he allowed his students.

The previous week, Loki had outright panicked. He had been practising his feint attacks with Leifur making a series of parries in response, which Loki had to manoeuvre around. But then, Leifur stepped into the middle of Loki’s attack and made for one of his own. Loki should have scrambled back as quickly as he could, but he got caught in mid-step and flailed. The tip of his blade ended up skewering Leifur’s knee and the hilt of Leifur’s own sword rammed into Loki’s shoulder. Although Loki’s blade was blunt, he had hit hard enough to draw blood. Leifur’s sword, in turn, had Loki’s shoulder aching for two days afterwards.

Furious, Leifur had said — shouted, really — exactly what he thought of Loki’s skills as he tried to staunch the blood dripping from his knee.

Loki dropped his sword then and scrambled away before Leifur could properly clobber him. And at precisely that moment salvation seemed to arrive. His father strode out of the Chancellery, surrounded by the usual crowd of advisers and secretaries. Loki ran to his father and just about threw himself into his father’s arms. 

‘What’s the meaning of this?’ his father demanded. His tone right there should have forewarned Loki, but he had already started blubbering about how Leifur had hit him and yelled at him. Frowning, Loki’s father pried him off. ‘Rather sounds like the mistake was yours. Go back to your lessons and apologise to your combat-master and to the rest of your class for disrupting the lesson.’

In an effort to stem the tears he could feel trailing down his cheeks, Loki pressed the hems of his sleeves against his face. ‘But —’

‘Now’s not the time. We’ll discuss it later.’

‘Father —’

‘No.’ His father’s lips tightened then. ‘You’re a prince of Asgard, Loki. So enough of this snivelling. Wipe your face and get back to your class.’

Loki wrapped his hands around himself as he winced. They never did discuss it later, which was fine with Loki. Just thinking back to that day now left his cheeks aflame.

Down in the courtyard, the students had finished their bladework drills and had turned to sparring. With Loki confined to his suite, Leifur didn’t pull anyone out for individual lessons and turned his from one pair of sparring partners to the next, occasionally shouting advice.

Loki didn’t understand why the adults didn’t see it — every day he wasn’t practising, he was falling further behind the rest of the class. Sure, his footwork would be useless right now, but he could focus on the bladework. Yet he had been denied even that when he proposed it.

He just needed to persuade everyone that he was better. He reached for the bowl of noodles; there wasn’t any steam rising off them now. The fish too looked barely lukewarm. Loki managed four mouthfuls before his stomach began protesting again. Two more and bile began to build in his throat. He was certain he would vomit if he risked anything more. Yet more than half of the bowl remained. Plus there was the rest of the fish he’d left sitting on the table. Asta would have much to say if he left food uneaten again. And he had a feeling her earlier threat wasn’t an idle one; she would drag Loki back to the Medical Wing if he exasperated her enough.

‘Well, it’s not like she stays around to watch me eat,’ Loki said under his breath. He flicked his hand and the noodles vanished.


	5. V

Loki sat on the edge of his bed, his feet dangling over the side. Opposite him, his mother had come down on one knee so they were more or less at eye-level. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this and it wasn’t just the matter of the strange shimmer the projection cast over her form. She had traded the finery befitting her rank as queen of Asgard for muddy boots and a plain blue and white dress sewn out of a sturdy fabric. If Loki didn’t know better he could have mistaken his mother for a common working-woman taking a momentary break from her daily tasks.

‘How are you doing, darling?’ his mother said. She shook her head. ‘By your father’s missive, it was a ghastly incident. You and your brother must have been so frightened.’

Loki bit down on his lip in a bid to control his wide grin; projection spells over long distances took a lot out of the caster so he hadn’t expected he would have a chance to talk to his mother face to face until she returned from Adra Taeral. ‘I’m better, mum. It’s not nearly as bad as everyone makes it out to be. Caunas, the healer who’s been looking after me, said the Chief Healer will come by later today; she should clear me to go back to class. It can’t be all that bad at all then, can it?’

 This wasn’t quite what Caunas had said. Loki had asked when he would be permitted to return to class with his peers and the healer had replied that he wouldn’t be the one to make that decision. Later, when Caunas was packing up his equipment, he had added that Eir herself would come to have a look at Loki later on. The implication seemed clear enough for Loki.

‘Are you far behind your schoolwork?’ his mother asked. Her hair was swept up in a bun, but a few coils had escaped and they shifted about lightly, stirred up by a breeze that didn’t reach Loki.

‘Not at all. Except for magic and combat training — that’s too taxing apparently. But for the rest of it, Master Frode has been going over the lessons I missed. It’s kind of nice really. He knows so much about everything. He even explained some of the theory behind the experiments Caunas is conducting as part of his work. And there’s no one else here, so I don’t have to sit around waiting while someone wants some silly question answered or the tutor is yelling because people won’t stop talking.’

‘I’m glad you’ve found an upside to this situation.’

‘Yeah, I can finish the lessons quicker this way, just me one on one with someone,’ Loki replied.

The intensity of those lessons had its costs. Loki’s mind was so wrung out by the time Master Frode left, Loki found himself sleeping through most of the afternoon. Two days in a row Thor had ended up waking him up when Thor had finished his classes for the day and dropped by to visit his brother.

Loki considered saying as much but decided that his mother didn’t need to know all that. Instead, he asked, ‘Is it really bad out there where you are?’

‘It’s a tough situation.’ His mother attempted to smooth her skirt, but a good part of the material was caught under the knee she rested against the ground, so the effort was futile. ‘Many of the injured have recovered and are recovering, which is a positive. But the aftershocks continue and there is fear that the area remains unstable. If so, there will be further casualties and destruction.’

‘Can you fix that? Prevent landslides from happening across so wide an area?’

‘Not easily, but a team of sorcerers can achieve much with a touch of creativity and a bit of effort,’ his mother said. She glanced behind her. As the projection showed nothing of her surroundings, Loki had no inkling as to what had drawn her attention, but his mother’s weary sigh suggested it was nothing pleasant. ‘But don’t you worry about what’s going on out here. I just want you healthy again and not making trouble for your father.’

‘I know, mum.’

‘How are you and your father getting along? And what about Asta?’

‘Asta and I are just fine,’ Loki said half-heartedly. ‘Father’s been busy; I haven’t seen him much since I was released from the Medical Wing.’ He caught his mother’s shoulders tensing and not being keen to cause discord between his parents, he quickly added, ‘I mean he still visits me each night, if only for fifteen minutes. And he said yesterday that he, Thor and I will have dinner together tonight.’

Loki personally didn’t hold much stock in that promise. It was a common thing for Thor, Loki and their mother to dine together while Odin had a working dinner with his council staff. At least presently this worked out in Loki’s favour.

‘I wish I could be there and we could all have dinner together. I see all the injured and orphaned children here…’ Her face tightened. Loki wondered if she was about to cry, but she only shook her head and clasped her hands together. ‘I wish I could give you a hug at least. You’re far too pale for my liking.’

‘I’m fine. Though I miss you too,’ Loki muttered.

He sucked on the inside of his cheek. This projection spell was so unfair. His mother looked as if she were right there, but if Loki were to reach out to her, he would just end up grasping after thin air.

Loki realised, of course, he ought not be whining about missing his mother for a few weeks. He was far too old for that for one. More importantly, her work was vital. He didn’t know in detail what had happened in Adra Taeral, but he had caught snatches: whole communities destroyed, many dead and many trapped under rubble. Some had remained trapped for hours or even days. Having had a recent experience with a heavy object descending on top of him, he appreciated fully the magnitude of the pain involved. And to be trapped for hours and hours like that with no certainty of rescue was nothing short of torture. He had heard too that by the time the rescue teams reached some of the victims, it had been too late to save their shattered limbs.

‘You should go,’ Loki said. ‘The spell you’re using is a hungry one and if you’re attempting to stabilise mountains, you should focus your magic on that.’

‘I suppose you’re right, Loki.’ His mother smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘I’ll be back home soon enough. And I’m sure by then you and Thor will be running through the palace corridors again as if nothing ever happened.’

As the projection dissipated, Loki flopped back onto his bed and groaned. He was growing weary of being asked how he was doing and being assured that he would recover. He wanted to be well today. And he never wanted to hear again that he was “pale”. Of course he was. He wasn’t allowed outside.

‘Yeah, ok. Enough of that,’ he muttered.

Asta jerked up when he threw open the door that connected his bedchamber to his study. She had made herself at home at his desk; the table was piled high with ledgers, invitations and letters.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, setting down her pen. ‘I thought you were talking to your mother.’

‘I was. But she is gone now. It’s a difficult spell to keep up for more than a few minutes and she’s busy anyways. She did suggest a book that might be useful for some work Master Frode left for me. I thought I’d just grab it; it’s on the shelves out here.’

‘What’s the title? I’ll help you find it.’

‘Thank you, but no need. I think I know where it is,’ Loki replied.

That satisfied Asta, so she left him to scan the two broad bookshelves of his study until he located the right tome. The title was rather uninspired: _A Compendium of Spells for the Young Magic-Wielder, Volume 2_. This book, just like the first volume, was a hodgepodge of spells, some common and some profoundly obscure. Every spell was supposed to be thematically linked as being useful to a young person who was still mastering the magic arts, but some of the linkages the author drew to the book’s theme were tenuous.

Loki thought the spells in the volume had a lot of potential. However, he preferred to use the author’s notes on how a spell could be used only as a springboard. For instance, Loki had never been fishing nor intended to go, but the spell that turned dry twigs into meaty earthworms was very useful if you wanted to make a girl shriek.

As entertaining as that had been, today Loki had more subtle spellwork in mind. He flicked through the yellowing pages until he found the right section — a variety of spells that promised better and longer-lasting results than a young magic-wielder could achieve with make-up. Loki had never had cause to examine this section in detail before, but he was fairly certain there was a spell in there that could help a young lady whose natural skin-tone had an unfortunate predilection towards pastiness.

 

 

 

‘Fine work!’ Leifur shouted. He punctuated his words with three slow claps of his hands.

Thor beamed as he helped his opponent, a stocky boy two inches taller than him, up off the ground and thanked him for his efforts.  The taller boy seemed no worse for wear, save for a layer of dirt over much of his clothing, but then Thor was scarcely better. They both shook off as much of the dirt as would come off, exchanged quick words that Odin had no hope of hearing and moved off to the edge of the training area in order to give the other students a chance to take centre-stage.

Watching from the doorway of the Chancellery, Odin was loath to interrupt. No other parent would be presumptuous enough to barge in while a class was in progress. But Odin had very little time to spare today and he wanted to deal with Thor before his councillors demanded his attention once more.

Odin relinquished the anonymity the shadowed doorway had given him and strode out into the courtyard. The children fell silent and peered at him with wide eyes. Even Thor stood rigid. No doubt they remembered the last time Odin happened to cross the courtyard during the middle of the lesson; he could have phrased his words better that afternoon.

‘Master Leifur,’ he called out. ‘I beg your forgiveness for my interruption, but might I borrow Thor for a few minutes?’

‘As you wish, your majesty,’ Leifur replied and motioned for Thor to join his father.

Not that Thor needed encouragement. He hurried over to Odin with a broad grin on his face. It pained Odin how overjoyed the boys seemed to be whenever they received a modicum of personal attention from him. Odin’s own father had kept aloof from his children and when Odin brought his first into the world, he had vowed to raise his children differently. It hadn’t worked out with Hela. Of late, he wasn’t sure it was working out with the boys either.

‘What’s going on?’ Thor asked as he fell in step beside his father.

Odin set the course toward the passageway that led through to the stables, but walked slowly to give the impression of a general walk rather than purposeful movement. ‘I would like your opinion on a matter.’

‘Oh? Which is?’

‘Your brother. You have more chance to spend time with him than I do. Do you think he’s recovering well?’

Thor seemed taken aback by the question. ‘I suppose I’d have to say that I think he’s not as recovered yet as he’s making it out he is.’

‘Is that so,’ Odin replied.

In truth, Thor’s opinion interested him little — it was the healers’ job, and Asta’s too to watch over Loki. Thor wasn’t his keeper. But the question made for a good opening for Odin’s next point. Past the passageway, he led Thor to the training yard where an Einherjari squadron was warming up their horses. They followed the line of the wooden fence while the soldiers put their mounts through their paces under the stern direction of their commander.

Odin waited for a pause in the commander’s hollering before he spoke. ‘I have some news for Loki that I fear he will take badly. His horse has been found. Nieven, that was the name, was it not? Well, Nieven fell prey to the wolves. From what the rangers could make out from the remains, Nieven had a badly injured hind leg and couldn’t move fast enough to escape the predators in the forest.’

‘Nieven is dead?’ Thor replied as his eyes grew wide. ‘But Nieven was such a good mount! Loki really liked her.’

‘It seems to me the Norns have decided it is time for Loki to learn the price of foolish arrogance. His injuries, his horse… all are fair exchanges for the brainless scheme he devised for this so-called bilgesnipe hunt.’ Odin cocked his head as he watched the Einherjari soldiers canter across the sandy ground of the training yard. At the last moment, before they crashed into the fence, they made their horses rear and turned them around only to break into a canter once more. ‘Meanwhile, I await his recovery so I hand him my punishment.’

‘Isn’t this punishment enough?’ Thor asked uncertainly.

‘No, I don’t believe it to be so.’

‘He pretty much saved my life though.’

‘A good thing he did. Your life was in his hands from the moment he decided to persuade you to go with him.’ Odin grasped Thor’s shoulder and turned the boy so they faced each other. ‘You think I’m being too harsh. Why? He put your life in jeopardy, does that count for nothing with you?’

Thor’s brows drew together and he shook his head. ‘It wasn’t Loki’s fault.’

‘Then who was responsible?’ Odin said in what he hoped was a casual, non-judgemental tone. But Thor only shrunk into himself and made a valiant effort not to meet his father’s eyes. Odin cupped the boy’s chin and tilted his head up so Thor couldn’t avoid eye-contact. ‘I’d like to hear the truth, Thor. There’s no place for lies in our house.’

‘The idea was mine.’ Thor sighed. ‘Loki said it was too dangerous for us to go alone, but I talked him into it. Turns out he was right. As always.’

‘Why did you lie to me?’

Thor’s face drained of colour. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I thought with Loki being injured, you’d be less stern with him. I just —’

‘I think you owe your brother an apology,’ Odin said.

‘I guess I do,’ Thor mumbled.

That had been easy enough; dealing with Thor usually was.  One only needed to line up the right pressure points. Only one more matter remained before Odin could return to coaxing the elves into cooperation.

Except Odin found himself rather more vexed than he was accustomed to being. In the grand scheme of things, Loki was correct — it didn’t matter who had come up with that bilgesnipe hunt stupidity; both boys had been foolish and got a good fright as a result. Odin was content to let the matter go. The lying, on the other hand, had to be addressed.

But what form was that punishment to take? He couldn’t well snatch away Thor’s toy soldiers as punishment; Thor was fast growing out of the age where toys mattered. He had already restricted both boys to the palace; confining them to their suites would only leave them idle for long hours and give them more opportunity to come up with mischief. What else was there? There seemed little sense in making Thor write an essay or something of that sort; books seemed to make little impression on the boy.

There was one obvious thing Thor would count as a loss — Odin could ban him from combat lessons for a length of time. Had he been a tailor’s son, Odin would have had no qualms about doing precisely that. But Thor wasn’t a tailor’s son and the universe he was born into was a vast and unruly chasm, full of powerful beings eager to gather further power and glory. It was only a matter of time until someone's ambitions turned to Asgard and its riches. When that day came, the House of Odin would be at the forefront of the struggle to defend Asgard. Thus, as a prince of Asgard, there was no question of Thor missing out on his lessons.

‘You will apologise to your brother for attempting to use his injuries to your advantage,’ Odin said. ‘Injuries, it pains me to add, that he sustained trying to protect you. We will all dine together tonight; you will give your apology then. In addition, for the next six months, you will spend two hours every day helping the staff in the palace kitchen.’

‘Six months?’ Thor groaned.

‘And if I hear so much as a complaint about your slacking on the tasks the staff in the kitchen assign you, I’ll make it ten months.’

Thor bristled. ‘Yes, father.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case someone noticed that the total number of chapters has changed, yes, I once again failed at forecasting how many chapters I'll need to tell a story. Having now counted up all the remaining scenes, I am fairly sure 10 chapters is the accurate count.


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big apologies about how late this update is! I went off on holidays, thinking I’d have plenty of time to write and it didn’t really turn out that way. Plus the airline lost my luggage for like a week and a bunch of my hand-written drafts for this story were inside, so that was a whole thing. 
> 
> Anyway, I promise, the next chapter will be out within the next fortnight.

Eir’s face was impenetrable as she watched Loki walk back and forth across the breadth of his bedroom. ‘I don’t much like how you’re favouring your right leg.’

Loki glanced down. ‘I am?’

‘Afraid so, darling. There is a pronounced limp,’ she replied. ‘But don’t fret, it’s nothing we can’t work on. Could you please pop back up on the bed and lie down on your back for me. I want to get a better look at what’s going on.’

Sighing, Loki did as asked. Eir took off the splints and pressed her hands over the various points on his lower limbs. He stared up at the ceiling, trying not to react, but Eir remained unsatisfied. She lifted up his left leg and trailed her long fingers along the lines of the muscles under his skin.

‘Is there any pain?’ she asked as she nudged him to bend his knee and continued her examination. ‘You’re awfully tense.’

‘Sorry. Just nervous I suppose.’

‘There’s nothing to be nervous about, Loki.’

‘Really?’ He made a conscious effort to purge the tension from his shoulders and tilted his head. ‘So I can go back to lessons with the rest of my class then?’

Eir gently set his leg back down on the mattress, but she offered him no reply as her attention shifted to his other leg. Loki clambered up and propped himself up on his elbows. Perhaps he had been overly optimistic after all.

‘Please? It’s really boring to be stuck here all day,’ he tried again. Sometimes this sort of thing worked on his mother, so seemed worth a try.

‘How’s your appetite?’ Eir asked.

‘Don’t know? It’s fine? It’s the way it always was.’

That answer didn’t impress; Eir turned her attention to her data tablet. Caunas had one just like it, except one edge of his was mashed in as if the tablet was a survivor of some violent calamity. She flicked through the screens of what Loki could only assume were notes Caunas and other healers had made about Loki since he was injured.

‘Allfather give me strength.’ Eir pursed her lips. ‘There’s no record of a temperature reading for this morning.’

‘Caunas must’ve forgotten to note it down. He definitely took it.’

Loki’s persistent low-grade fever was proving to be the most difficult thing to get around. This morning Loki had to make himself trip and fall flat on his face in order to distract Caunas from taking a measure of his temperature. The previous day, Caunas did get around to taking it and tutted at the result — one degree above the baseline was still one degree more than was acceptable. Loki had to talk circles around Caunas to get him distracted enough to write down the wrong thing in his records.

He leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of the tablet’s screen. ‘Is there one for the day before? He took my temperature then too and he said it was fine.’

Eir flicked through the records. Loki used the moment to his advantage. He could see the temperature reader peeking out of Eir’s bag. It was the same recently updated, but peculiarly primitive-looking model Caunas had in his healer’s kit. A minute twitch of Loki’s hand and it was gone. It was only a precaution, of course. Loki certainly didn’t feel like he had a fever.

Eir lowered the tablet. ‘Are you sure Healer Caunas took a reading this morning?’ At Loki’s nod, she shook her head. ‘I swear, the man would lose his head were it not attached to his neck. Let’s have a look at what it is now.’

Loki was the epitome of patience while Eir dug through her bag for the reader that was no longer there. To his surprise, she even swore a little after lamenting that she was certain she had packed it.

‘It should be all right though, shouldn’t it?’ Loki said. ‘It was fine yesterday and this morning. There’s no reason for the fever to be back now.’

‘I would prefer to be certain.’ Eir shut her bag. ‘All right, darling, let’s do it this way. Healer Caunas will check up on you tomorrow morning as usual and he will verify that you aren’t running a fever then. Do make sure he writes down the reading, will you? If there is no fever and you still think you’re up to it, you can rejoin your brother in your classes the day after tomorrow.’

‘Thank you!’ Loki grinned

‘Only academic classwork though. No excursions, no sorcery and no strenuous physical activity.’

There was a knock. Before Eir or Loki could react, Asta strode in. ‘Pardon the interruption,’ she said without bothering to sound at all contrite. ‘Loki, there is a message from your father. He is very sorry, but he won’t be able to make it to dinner after all.’

‘Big surprise,’ Loki muttered. He put on a hurt look. ‘I’ll just eat in here then if he’s so busy.’

‘I can keep you and Thor company,’ Asta replied.

‘No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.’

‘As you like,’ Asta said. Having spent so long in each other’s proximity now, she seemed as tired of Loki as he was of her, so he was unsurprised at her decision not to press the issue. ‘Eir, are you going to be here a while longer? I need to —’

‘A few minutes more, I think. Shall we speak later?’ When Asta signalled her acquiescence and withdrew, Eir reached for the splints. Her movements were gentle, but brisk as she secured them back in place. ‘I’m sure your father is as sad about the dinner as you are.’

‘It doesn’t matter. He’s the king of Asgard — he’s a busy man.’ Loki chewed on the inside of his cheek. ‘Eir? From what you said earlier, does that mean I can’t go to combat classes?’

‘That’s right.’

‘But why? I can understand why no sorcery and stuff, but can’t I just do bladework at least? At this rate, I’m going to end up so far behind everyone else it’ll take me forever to catch up.’

Eir paused her work on the splints. ‘I know this is frustrating for you, but you are limping walking across this room. There are several flights of stairs between here and the courtyard where you have your lessons. Until you can get up and down those stairs without trouble, I’m not clearing you for anything more strenuous than moderately paced walking.’

Loki groaned. ‘That’s not —’

‘My word on this is final,’ Eir interjected curtly.

_I hate adults. And I hate healers most of all._

 

 

Despite the late hour, Odin’s office was brightly lit. He had abandoned his desk some hours ago and sat at the long table at the front of the room, which had become the central hub for the night’s operation. Odin and his chief secretary sat on one side of the table, Agnar and his two aids took up the other. A team of legal experts had occupied the other seats for the past three hours, but thankfully, they had now withdrawn themselves to a different workroom so they could write up their commentaries on the elven counter-proposal.

‘Why don’t you take a break for half an hour? Go see the boys,’ Agnar said.

He bunched up the numerous papers in front of him into a single pile and grimaced at its height. But that didn’t do much for the chaos of overstuffed binders and loose papers building up around the three silver trays that had been brought up in lieu of a proper evening meal.

‘Not much point now. They’d be asleep by this hour,’ Odin replied. He leant back as far as his stiff chair would allow him to. Glancing at the clock mounted on the wall, he groaned. It was two hours past midnight — even later than he had thought it was. ‘If they are not asleep right now, I’d give them a right scolding. No man should be up at this hour.’

‘We could ask for an extension on this. The universe won’t shatter for it,’ Gunnvaldr, Odin’s secretary, replied in a dry tone.

Agnar snickered, while Odin indulged himself in a half-smile. Gunnvaldr didn’t acknowledge their reactions. He knew, of course, that an extension was an untenable option— it would suggest weakness within the Asgardian camp. But his temperament naturally leaned towards surliness and the long workday had done nothing for his mood.

‘Let’s take a few minutes. Clear up these platters if naught else,’ Odin replied, motioning towards the nearly untouched trays of food.

Agnar’s assistants picked out a few things that wouldn’t leave their fingers sticky, but then immediately lost themselves in a discussion about some tangent regarding the counter-proposal’s annexes. Agnar himself was in no hurry to follow the conversation between his subordinates. He snatched up an olive fork from a small jar lodged between cold meats and savoury pastries, leaned forward to examine the food on offer more carefully.

‘Another couple of weeks like this and I think my children are going to forget what my face looks like,’ he said.

‘Probably for the best,’ Gunnvaldr muttered. At Agnar’s quizzical look, he added. ‘I mean, have you ever looked in the mirror?’

‘Ah, my friend, I’d rather my face than yours.’ Agnar aimed his fork a stack of thinly sliced elk salami, then picked out a roll of rye bread. ‘Speaking of the little ones, and thankfully better looking than us, how’d it end with Thor?’

Odin shook his head. ‘Well enough I suppose.’ He glanced from one tray to another. Perhaps it was his mood or maybe he was just that tired, but nothing looked remotely appetising. ‘It did remind me — I have another matter left unsettled in regards to Loki. He is in need of a new combat-master.’

He was more than mildly displeased with himself to have let that incident with Loki in the courtyard remain unaddressed. True, Loki’s tears caught him by surprise and on the worst day possible. Three Einherjar soldiers had raped a woman down in the city the previous night. News had just come of the disaster in Adra Taeral. Meanwhile, Asgard’s recently increased tariffs on fresh produce had both the elves and the dwarves all but threatening revolt.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t ignore his child’s distress. It wasn't appropriate for a prince of Asgard to be crying in full view of half the palace, not at Loki's age — Loki knew as much. But it wasn't appropriate for any teacher to berate a child to the point of tears either.

‘I’ll send a message to Tyr’s aide-de-camp with a request for recommendations,’ Gunnvaldr replied.

‘It seems an over-reaction to me,’ Agnar said. ‘No one is talented at every thing there is and a bit of adversity can teach a young man a great deal. Speak to him, encourage him to try harder.’

‘I’ve spoken to him about it, more than once and from what I’ve seen, he’s been trying his best. I’ve asked the master to keep a closer eye on him also. Yet he still lags behind.’

Gunnvaldr rose from his seat and walked around the perimeter of the table gathering up the various binders. ‘It seems peculiar to me that he would struggle so in the first place. He’s not uncoordinated. Nor timid.’

‘There are some signs he would be dangerous with a spear one day, but not much else,’ Odin replied. Thinking on it, Gunnvaldr had a point — Loki was a fast runner and a good dancer. And Laufey was a formidable opponent on the battlefield. ‘It simply won’t do. I’ve let it go on for a while, hoping matters will improve, but Loki’s progress is unsatisfactory and when the time comes, Asgard needs him to be a capable a warrior.’

‘How do you plan to go about this?’ Agnar asked. He nudged the tray closest to him towards Odin. ‘Are you going to help us out here? All right, you choose a new combat-master, what next? You replace the man teaching the class? Or is it only a special teacher for Loki? You need to be careful there. My Runa didn’t much like it when we arranged for a few additional lessons with a mathematics tutor for her.’

Gunnvaldr looked up, momentarily pausing his futile efforts to bring order to the mass of binders he had gathered. ‘This all seems simple to me. Loki missed many days of training already and will be missing more yet. When he’s ready, bring in a man to work with him one on one so he can catch up. You don’t want him training in a full class anyway; more chance he’ll be inadequately supervised and he’ll re-injure himself. If the new combat-master doesn’t work out, get another one — we’ve no shortage of trained men on Asgard.’

‘When it comes to children, it’s never simple,’ Odin replied. ‘Even if Loki isn’t troubled to be segregated in private lessons, which I doubt in the first place, his brother and their friends are bound to make some comment on it.’

‘And then there’ll definitely be trouble. And broken noses… And a few snakes.’ Agnar snorted.

‘Actually, I believe the boy’s moved onto ferrets now,’ Odin said. He tapped his fingers against the tabletop. ‘We should get back to it, I suppose. I don’t want to still be sitting here at sunrise.’


	7. VII

Loki grabbed onto the door-frame and leaned out until he could see down the hallway. No one there. He peered over the edge of the door; no one coming up from the other end of the hallway either. This was his chance.

He moved as quickly as he could. He had no idea if his father was already abed, or still working somewhere in the palace, or on his way back to his suite at this very moment. Loki hoped it wasn’t the latter; the last thing he wanted was to encounter his father at this hour of the night.

The Norns were on Loki’s side — he got to the little side corridor that ran off the main hallway and led to the service staircase without encountering so much as a mouse.

‘A sec, or maybe two,’ Loki mumbled under his breath.

Safe in the seclusion of the side-corridor, which was little-used even during the busiest hours of the day, he came to a stop and sucked in several long breaths. Today had been Loki’s first day back to his lessons proper and Caunas had been right to caution that just sitting in a classroom would be a shock. The aching in his legs was decidedly more pronounced than it had been over the entire past week.

Loki attempted to lightly massage his left thigh, but that only exacerbated the pain. Still, he wasn’t a coward and he wasn’t about to give up because of a lingering ache. No longer so concerned about being caught, he set a more casual pace for himself. And, conceding that he was quite tired already, he dropped the concealment spells over himself. Using magic always drained the sorcerer to some degree and with no one around to see his face, there was no sense in keeping up the spell-work.

There were two places in the palace complex where Loki and his class typically had their combat lessons. The first, and almost universally, was the courtyard. When it snowed or rained too heavily even for Leifur to tolerate, they trained instead in one of the smaller arenas that belonged to the palace guardsmen. The main arena was reserved exclusively for the actual palace guard at all times. There was, however, another place right in the heart of the palace where you could practise. Few knew of it. This training room had been built for old King Bor’s personal use. Loki’s father preferred to train with the palace guard or the Einherjar, so he had no need of the space. The room was made available to any guests of the palace on the off-chance they preferred to work on their skills in private, but few took up the offer and most days, the room stood empty.

From the side-corridor, it was also only two flights down the service stairs. Loki’s legs might have protested every step and he sweated profusely, but he was determined.

_Just don’t think about the climb back up._

The door was ajar. Wiping the beading moisture off his forehead, Loki peered through the gap between the door and the doorframe. The training room was already occupied. A tall man with snow-white hair, which fell down to the small of his back, stood in the centre of the room, his ribcage heaving in sharp bursts. A toppled manikin lay at his feet. Slowly, he turned around and offered Loki a lop-sided smile.

‘Good evening. Come on in, no need to be shy,’ he said. His voice was soft and sonorous, almost seductive — a counterpoint to the long dagger the man held in his hand. ‘Prince Loki, is it not?’

 _Prince Amhlaith._ It was only when Loki turned to shut the door behind him that his mind caught up. To be fair, he had met the Crown Prince of Alfheim only once before and that had been at a feast where Amhlaith had been draped in layers of silk and sable. Now he stood bare-chested and barefoot.

Loki jerked his head forward. ‘It is, your highness. How do you do.’

‘I think I’m satisfied I vanquished the manikin. Would you like to take a turn?’ Amhlaith slid his dagger into the leather holster strapped around his hips and set the manikin upright.

Loki would have liked to say yes. These manikins were training tools experienced soldiers used; they could be programmed to simulate all manner of fighting styles and moves. Some manikins were sized and programmed for a child, but this one had belonged to Loki’s grandfather. Having heard about the man’s many battlefield victories, Loki didn’t feel up to trying his mettle against the man’s old training robot anytime soon. There was a difference between bravery and stupidity.

‘I just came here to do some bladework practise,’ he said.

‘At this hour?’

‘There’s usually no one here and plenty to choose from,’ Loki replied, motioning towards the training room walls. Asgard offered its guests a broad range of weapons to train with should they desire to do so. ‘That’s not to say that I am disappointed to have your company tonight.’

‘Nor I yours,’ Amhlaith replied.

Loki offered no response, although he didn’t much like the way Amhlaith had pushed an emphasis into ‘yours’. He sounded like he was just humouring Loki and it was always annoying when adults did that.

Ignoring Amhlaith, Loki made a survey of the weapon racks. To his dismay, every weapon was either too long or too heavy for him.

‘Use my dagger if you like,’ Amhlaith said. ‘I took a good look earlier; the choices here aren’t inspiring.’

Loki spun around to face Amhlaith and fumbled over his feet. He staggered to the side until he caught his balance again. ‘That’s very kind of you to offer. But I don’t think that would be appropriate.’

‘As you like. There’s probably something marginally useful here. What weapon is your preferred?’

‘Spear is more fun. Or, rather, I’m a bit better at it than the others.’

Amhlaith strolled over to stand by Loki’s side and pulled an old rapier off the rack. He sized it up, his expression thoughtful. ‘I was no good at any of this at all as a child, whether a spear or a knife or hand-to-hand fighting.’

‘You got better though?’ Loki asked. Looking at the taut muscles under Amhlaith’s smooth, ivory-hued skin and the heavily armoured manikin he had overcome, it strained Loki’s imagination to envisage Amhlaith as anything other than a deadly warrior.

‘With many hours of practice. Although I never ventured to train at this hour of the night, not back then at least.’

‘Why now?’ Loki said and suddenly remembered his father’s tirades on the difficulties of dealing with elves. ‘You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, your highness, I meant no offence.’

‘It brings a certain sense of clarity to my thoughts. But mostly I just need to get the voices of your father’s advisers out of my head. I don’t know how you feel about them, but I find them all insufferable. They won’t stop talking.’

Loki bit into his lip. ‘Some are better than others. Agnar does talk a lot.’

‘The universe will burn before than man shuts up.’ Loki couldn’t help his giggle, which seemed to please Amhlaith. The elf tried a few playful feints with the rapier, then shrugged and handed the weapon to Loki. ‘A bureaucrat’s prattle is just empty words. Now steel has some weight to it. But honestly, magic is where the real art is, but few Asgardians know anything of substance when it comes to magic.’

‘Magic is more fun. I think so at least.’

‘Others disagree?’

‘They say it’s cheating when I use a spell to win in a fight,’ Loki replied although inwardly doubts were beginning to gnaw at him. Was he saying too much? That had been a sharp change in subject, too sharp. It wouldn’t have been hard for someone in the elven delegation to find out that he had a knack for sorcery. Perhaps this was a ploy of some kind – elves were not to be trusted and elven royalty least of all.

If this was some scheming of Amhlaith’s, however, he offered up no clues. ‘Cheating?’ he echoed casually. ‘Here’s the thing, Prince Loki. There are rules in training – rules limit our choices so that we are forced to work on our weaknesses until they become a strength. There are no rules in real battle.’

‘I know that.’

‘Do you? I’m glad to hear it.’ Amhlaith cocked his head. ‘And how would you defeat me?’

Loki’s eyes widened. ‘Why would I…’

‘Humour me, your highness.’

‘Um, club you over the head with your own weapon? Or make you slip and fall over?’

Amhlaith answered to Loki’s suggestions with a non-committal grunt. He strode over to the very centre of the room and after sending the manikin drifting towards the corner, sat down on the floor cross-legged. ‘Passable moves at a pinch, but come sit by me and maybe we can come up with more artful ways to get what we want.’

Loki was certain now that the elf was toying with him, but it seemed rude to refuse and frankly, sitting seemed like a very good idea. His legs were bothering him more and more with every passing minute. He found a place on the floor to the right of Amhlaith and watched in awe as the elf conjured wispy figurines of two fighters pinned against each other. The one closer to Loki was dressed in gold and red armour, like leaves during the height of autumn. The other was all blue and white, it reminded Loki of frost in pre-dawn light.

‘Pick your champion,’ Amhlaith said.

‘The blue and white one.’

 

 

Odin rose from his seat with more enthusiasm than he had managed in weeks. The elves had finally come around and agreed to four of the eleven clauses most critical to Asgard, which was the first real breakthrough of these negotiations. Perhaps another four or five days and they would have an agreement both parties could live with. And Odin wouldn’t have to suffer Amhlaith’s affected, condescending drawl any longer.

But, for the moment, Odin was still playing host to the elven delegation and while the rest of his retinue filed out in search of lunch, Amhlaith had other plans. Strutting like a peacock, he made directly for Odin.

‘Your majesty, if I might have a word,’ Amhlaith said. As usual, there was no hint of deference in those words.

‘Is there something you require assistance with?’ Odin asked. Agnar and one of his secretaries had noticed Amhlaith’s approach and paused; Odin motioned for them to keep heading out. If there was something the Crown Prince of Alfheim wanted that couldn’t be set out in a letter and transferred into the hands of one of Odin’s staff, it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with half of Asgard’s Royal Council within earshot.

Pouting mildly, Amhlaith crossed his arms. ‘It’s rather a sensitive matter. I have been sworn to secrecy, you see. But as a father myself, it’s my opinion that you ought to be informed.’

‘I was unaware you had children,’ Odin replied. He hoped his surprise at the direction this conversation had taken wasn’t obvious. Upon hearing ‘a sensitive matter’, he had been half-expecting Amhlaith to confess to murdering one of the palace staff or something similarly distasteful.

‘Oh, I’ve a growing brood of bastards back home.’

_Not murdering. Impregnating._

‘How delightful.’

‘Delightful. And loud,’ Amhlaith said. Leaning against the edge of the table behind him, he went on, ‘I had a chance encounter with Prince Loki last night, in the Old King’s training room. It was close to midnight at the time; he seems very eager to return to full fitness as soon as possible.’

 Odin frowned. ’Prince Loki? Are you certain it was him?’

‘That’s the name he gave me.’

‘Did his brother accompany him?’

‘He came alone as far as I could see. I was preoccupied when he arrived; he interrupted my training. I stayed until he could be persuaded to return to his bed, of course. Leaving children unsupervised in a room full of weapons is asking for trouble.’

‘Children anywhere other than their bed at that hour of the night is asking for trouble.’

‘So it is not the custom in Asgard to allow children to wander the palace freely? I wasn’t quite sure, you see. But he did ask me to keep our meeting to myself and that seemed suspicious to me.’

‘No, it is most certainly not our custom,’ Odin replied in a sour tone, which was impolitic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Amhlaith knew full well that Asgardian children didn’t run about unsupervised through the night. And were Amhlaith one of Odin’s own staff, Odin would have berated him for taking this long to say something.

Amhlaith hesitated momentarily before he spoke again, ‘If it is not too prying a question, how goes the child’s recovery? The hour was late and perhaps he had over-exerted himself, but it seemed to me he looked rather wan and in pain.’

Odin scrutinised the chiselled features of Amhlaith’s face. The health of an heir to the throne was valuable knowledge to Asgard’s enemies and there were always factions among the elves who resented Asgard. Illness within the royal family could become construed as an opportunity. Moreover, Amhlaith had offered no proof Loki had even stepped out of his bedroom last night – the entire tale could be pure fiction.

On the other hand, for the first time since he had arrived here, Amhlaith seemed to be offering Odin something other than borderline disdain. It might be prudent to accept Amhlaith’s words in good faith.

‘The healers have reported good progress thus far,’ Odin said. ‘But I will make further enquiries. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.’

 

 

Enough was enough. The elves were important trading partners and close relations between Alfheim and Asgard stretched back to the dawn of history, but at the end of the day, there was more to the universe than Alfheim. Odin didn’t know if Amhlaith was playing games with him now and he was beyond caring. Once the negotiating parties reconvened after lunch, he announced he would not be attending the banquet to be held this evening and relegated hosting duties to his chancellor. Odin himself was determined to finally spend an evening with his sons.

To Odin’s consternation neither Thor nor Loki looked particularly pleased to be at the dining table with their father. He had left his customary seat vacant and took Frigga’s place instead — it left him physically closer to the boys, who remained in their usual seats. And they peered down at their food with near-identical scowls.

Odin knew well enough the reasons for Thor’s mood — they still had unfinished business to settle. Loki had him at a loss. While he moved more slowly than his brother and limped, Odin couldn’t describe him as wan or in need of pain relief.

‘Loki, is something the matter?’ he asked.

The boy shook his head, then, as if on a second-thought, sighed. ‘Just a bit tired I guess. I still have work to finish for tomorrow too.’

‘If being back to your lessons is too much all at once —’

‘It’s fine. I was up reading late last night, that’s all,’ Loki cut in.

And in that moment Odin was certain Amhlaith hadn’t spun his meeting with Loki out of thin air. The boy was a frequent recipient of lectures about late-night reading. Not that such conversations were much of a deterrent; Frigga often had to confiscate books when she caught him. But Loki knew he wasn’t supposed to read after his bedtime. If he voluntarily admitted doing so, Odin could bet half his kingdom that Loki hadn’t spent the night simply reading under his covers.

 But one child’s mischief at a time.

‘Make sure you get a better night sleep tonight,’ Odin said. ‘Thor, I believe there is a matter you still need to settle with your brother. Why don’t you go ahead and do that.’

Loki frowned as he glanced to his brother. Thor, meanwhile, made a concerted effort to keep his gaze fixed on his half-finished place of roasted beetroot and walnut salad. He said nothing. Odin let the silence linger. One could get more out of a man if he was allowed to stew for a while and gave him an opportunity to make a reckoning of all avenues available to him.

And Odin was vindicated. After a long, pained quiet, Thor said, ‘I tried to blame the whole bilgesnipe hunt thing on you, Loki. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘You always were a twat.’ Loki stuck his fork into a large chunk of beetroot and lifted it halfway to his mouth only to drop it back onto the plate. ‘And a big, annoying twat.’

‘Hey, I apologised!’

Loki glared at his brother. ‘Only because father made you. It’s not like you mean it.’

‘I do mean it! I knew I shouldn’t have said it the moment I did, but I thought…’ Thor looked to Odin for help, but then seemed to resolve something within himself. ‘I thought if I said it was your idea, you wouldn’t get punished because you got injured already. While me… yeah, all right, it was a nasty thing to do.’

‘Fine, apology accepted,’ Loki said. He rolled his fork between his fingers and pushed it through the mass of salad on his plate. ‘That’s all you’re waiting to hear, isn’t it?’

Thor muttered something under his breath, but Odin didn’t catch the words and Loki was no longer paying attention to his brother. He was fixed on playing with his salad. Odin decided not to comment on the lack of progress with the food. He wasn’t particularly fond of roasted beets or rocket either; he only ate it now to set an example for the boys — Frigga believed that hypocrisy made for poor parenting.

‘What did you do?’ Thor demanded. Perhaps it was only out of the lingering sense that he was in trouble, but Thor at least had been making good progress towards clearing his plate. Now he slammed his fork down and twisted to face Loki. ‘I saw that.’

‘What are you accusing me of now? Splattering dirt across your history essay? Tearing up your new shirt? It’s not my fault you’re a grub.’

‘A bunch of the beetroot just disappeared off your plate. I saw it out of the corner of my eye.’ Thor reached for his brother’s plate, but Loki pulled it out of his reach. ‘There was more than that on there a second ago.’

‘Leave me alone, Thor. Can you just do that for once?’

Thor froze and Odin had to admit, he too was taken aback by the glassy tone Loki’s words had taken on. The exchange had been heading for a wrestling match before the second course was served, but Loki just surrendered the fight. Perhaps the boy really was that tired. Or perhaps Thor’s lie had stung more than Odin had anticipated. Odin would need to have a proper conversation with Loki after dinner and without Thor being present. 

But Thor wasn’t quite ready to abandon the argument; he looked to Odin for help once more. ‘Father, Loki —’

‘Thor, enough,’ Odin cut in. ‘Be civil, both of you, I’d appreciate it if we could eat the rest of our dinner without squabbling.’

Scowling, Thor turned back to his plate and Loki continued his idle play with his salad. After another lingering silence, Odin started prodding the boys with questions about their classes and their classmates. Loki had little to say, but Thor proved more amiable. The conversation then turned to Sif and the trip to Midgard Sif and her older sisters had been promised. For a moment, just as the servants cleared the first course and brought out a large tray of venison Odin though he finally recaptured that warm family atmosphere that had eluded him of late.

Odin and Thor heartily dug into the venison. His mood buoyed, he even agreed to consider permitting Loki and Thor to accompany Sif and her family to Midgard should the boys behave themselves in the next couple of months. But then he noticed Loki had slipped out of the conversation entirely. He was quietly working on his first rib; Thor had nearly finished his third.

‘Loki, don’t you like the meat?’ To Odin’s frustration, he received only a listless shrug in reply. ‘Then eat. Don’t think I’m going to allow you to live off sweets and dessert.’

‘I know, father,’ Loki mumbled. With the look of a man condemned to a century of hard labour, he bit into the rib and made a show of chewing it.

Thor cocked his head. ‘Do you think you’d be able to come with us?’

‘I cannot say one way or another right now,’ Odin replied as he watched Loki wipe the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. There really was something off — the boy’s movements were too rigid.

‘But mother will be able to come?’ Thor pressed.

Loki dropped the rib onto the table and twisted halfway out of his seat. He grabbed onto the back of his seat with one hand, but it didn’t stop the upper half of his body tilting as he lurched forward and vomited.


	8. VIII

Odin leapt out of his seat. ‘Are you all right?’

It was a stupid question and as Loki tried to respond, his body betrayed him again. Little came up this time though — mostly water, and that soon turned into dry heaving. Odin grabbed a napkin from the table and used it to wipe Loki’s face.

‘How long have you felt unwell?’

Loki produced a strangled sound that conveyed nothing of substance, but Thor piped in, ‘Should I get a healer summoned?’

They certainly needed a healer. Odin glanced at the food and the tableware the servants had brought in. Poison was a real possibility. But it probably wasn’t the food. Loki had eaten less than Odin or Thor, yet he was the one sick. The poison could well have been placed onto Loki’s fork or glass. Or it could have been something earlier on — there were many kinds of slow-acting poisons out there.

Odin forced himself to take a deep breath and remember that prince or not, Loki was only a child. A child could vomit for a myriad of reasons, none of which necessitated the existence of a shadowy conspiracy to bring down the House of Odin.

‘Hold on, Thor. Loki?’ Odin still received no adequate response, so he cupped the boy’s chin and gently tilted his head up. Loki didn’t actually look particularly sick, certainly not like a person about to succumb to enemy poison. Nor, really, like a person who had just emptied the contents of their stomach. ‘What’s going on with you? Do you feel ill?’

‘It’s fine now,’ Loki said, speaking so softly Odin struggled to make out his words.

‘But you felt ill before? Why didn’t you say something?’

‘Didn’t want to complain over nothing.’

‘Your health isn’t nothing. Come here, child.’ Odin slid one hand under Loki’s knees, the other around the small of his back and lifted the boy up into the air. Loki immediately wrapped his hands around Odin’s neck and pressed his nose against Odin’s collarbone. ‘Thor, I’m going to take Loki to the Medical Wing. Could you make sure everything is cleaned up while we are gone?’

Thor offered up a sombre promise that he would do as asked, but Loki wriggled in Odin’s arms. ‘I don’t need a hea—’

‘That’s for the healers to decide,’ Odin said.

Loki wasn’t heavy, but his long limbs and knobby joints made for a cumbersome load. His half-hearted protests didn’t ease matters either. Odin was glad to reach the Medical Wing.

Striding into the room, Odin saw only a lone, youthful-looking healer, who was busy restocking the cupboards.

‘Could you fetch the Chief Healer for me?’ Odin asked.

‘The Chief Healer is due back any minute, your majesty,’ she said as she abandoned her work and gestured towards the nearest Med Cradle. When she moved closer, Odin recognised her — Lunda, the healer tasked that day with looking after Thor while everyone else focused on Loki. He hadn’t given it a second thought then, but now he wondered why Eir had given her the task. ‘Is that Prince Loki you have there? Let’s lay him down in the cradle and we’ll proceed from there.’

‘Don’t. I feel fine now!’ Loki scowled when Odin set him down on the cradle’s stiff mattress.

Odin ignored the protestations. ‘He vomited while we were in the middle of dinner.’

Lunda nodded and switched on the scanners connected to the Med Cradle. Almost at once, even before the scanners had fully booted up, her eyebrows drew together. Her fingers flickered frenetically over the console controls as she tried to extract more information from the machine.

‘I need to examine the original injury site,’ she declared

Loki’s breeches had a wide cut and buttoned up on the side with small brass buttons all the way to his mid-thigh. Still, Loki squirmed and moaned about his modesty. Odin caught the boy’s shoulder and held him still so Lunda could do her work; he wasn’t in the mood to tolerate Loki’s brattiness at this moment, not when Lunda’s frown continued to deepen.

She released the splint over Loki’s left thigh and cold dread set into the pit of Odin’s stomach. Loki’s left thigh was swollen and the inches above the knee a mottle of red and purple. He unlaced Loki’s boot and pulled it off, then pushed down the sock too. The skin below the knee was pale with an almost translucent sheen.

‘Is this an infection?’ Odin said. He hardly needed the confirmation really; he had been in many field hospitals in his life. ‘And the blood flow is becoming disrupted, isn’t it? Norns, Loki, there’s no way you didn’t feel something was amiss. Why didn’t you say something?’

As Lunda had promised, Eir had returned. She carried her healer’s kit with her, so Odin surmised she must have been attending to other patients. He offered her a curt nod and refocused on Loki — he wanted an answer from his son.

It took a long moment, but Loki withered under the intensity of Odin’s gaze. ‘It was fine until today. And then I thought it was aching just because of yesterday.’

‘Because instead of being in bed you were wandering the palace last night, is that right?’ Odin replied. ‘Yes, I know about that.’

‘A midnight stroll wouldn’t cause this,’ Eir cut in. She had taken a brief look at the Med Cradle terminal and her expression soured much as Lunda’s had. Pursing her lips, she lightly pressed her fingers against the reddened skin of Loki’s thigh, but pulled back when Loki winced and instead ran her hand across his forehead. ‘Loki, when I last examined you, you said you were nervous. And you were certain your fever had subsided. Were you perhaps not fully honest with me?’

Loki ran his tongue over his lower lip. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

‘I have to say, darling,’ Eir went on, ‘you look decidedly bright and rosy-cheeked for someone with so nasty an infection and so high a temperature.’

‘Then is can’t be all that bad? Right?’

Eir caught Odin’s eye and shook her head. Not that it mattered. Odin too saw what she saw. Over the years he had watched many men fall victim to infection, he knew what they looked like. He rested his fingers on Loki’s forehead; heat radiated through the skin. Sighing, he reached beyond the realm of flesh and bone. He felt the familiar, intricate layers of concealments spun around Loki — magic so finely woven a casual observer would never distinguish them from the magic Loki held within himself. But on top of these layers of Odin and Frigga’s masterworks rested new spells. They were haphazard and awkwardly assembled, but effective.

Odin stripped them away.

‘Norns be damned,’ he hissed. There was no sign of health about Loki now, his skin was pale and coated with a sheen of sweat. Looking at the boy carefully, Odin had to wonder if he had lost weight too. His face seemed thinner. ‘What’ve you been playing at?’

With his eyes as wide as saucers, Loki tried to sit up.

Both Eir and Lunda nudged him back into a prone position at once. ‘This is no good,’ Eir said. ‘Lunda, can you coax better imagery from the scanner. We need to find the source of this infection.’

Lunda hurried to her task, Eir meanwhile pulled out a felt blanket from a drawer built into the base of the Med Cradle and spread it over Loki, leaving only his infected leg exposed to the air. Odin suppressed a scoff as she ran her hand over his head and in a soft tone promised Loki that all would turn out well.

‘Loki, answer me,’ Odin pressed. ‘Why the concealment spells? And you lied to your healers too, is that so?’

‘I didn’t think it was all that bad. Didn’t want to complain over every little thing,’ Loki replied.

That made absolutely no sense as far as Odin was concerned. If a person believed their illness was a minor issue, there was no reason to hide anything. What was the purpose of concealment magic if not to hide things? And Loki hadn’t stopped at concealment spells either, had he?

‘Thor said he saw food vanish off your plate. You made it disappear, didn’t you?’ Loki’s stiff and obviously reluctant nod sent cold dread coursing through Odin’s veins.  ‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Don’t know. A few days maybe.’

‘And you didn’t think that’ll have consequences?’ Loki started to apologise, but Odin was far from finished. Any sense of calm that he had clung to since bringing Loki to the Medical Wing had evaporated. ‘You were in pain, you haven’t been eating and you’ve been using magic to cover up how sick you look. Any child half your age would know that using magic when you’re ill only prolongs an illness — you are drawing on the very resources your body needs to recover. I thought you had some brains in you, boy, but th-this is… this is quite simple actually. I’m raising an imbecile!’

Loki met his father’s gaze only for a moment. ‘I just wanted…’ He sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘No it doesn’t, because at this point you could lose your leg. Or worse. Did you —’

‘Your majesty,’ Lunda called out. ‘I think you ought to have a glance at this.’

‘What is it?’ Odin demanded.

Lunda beckoned him to stand between her and Eir, then spoke in a soft tone, ‘First of all, please calm yourself, your majesty. You’re scaring your son and I suspect he’s scared and upset more than enough right now. Second, have a look at this cross-section of his thigh — there is a fragment of a bilgesnipe spur buried in very close to the bone.’

‘It’s tiny, but it’s enough to set off an infection,’ Eir added. ‘We need to extract it before he deteriorates further.’

Odin glanced back to the Med Cradle. Loki stared up at the ceiling, his eyes bright with unspilled tears and what little colour there had been in his face a minute ago had utterly drained away. Guilt and revulsion churned in the pit of Odin’s stomach. This was his child, his youngest and most sensitive child, and a very ill one at that. Instead of comforting Loki, Odin had berated him.

‘One minute,’ Odin said to Eir then moved back to Loki’s side and crouched by the Med Cradle so he could be closer to Loki’s eye-level. ‘We’ll talk about what happened later, much later. All right? First, the healers are going to get you well again. There’s a fragment of a spur still embedded in your leg; it needs to be taken out.’

‘Fine,’ Loki mumbled.

‘What’s fine?’

Loki clenched his jaw. ‘I’m not a coward. Whatever needs to be done, so be it.’


	9. IX

Two figurines spun out of magic danced around each other, their spears at the ready. Always at the ready, but never striking out. Every time one crept close enough to make an attack someone far off in the periphery pulled the figurine back. Loki couldn’t see their faces, but he knew the figurines were growing angry with their puppeteer.

He searched for the man out there in the distance and found no one, yet he knew there was someone there.

‘Hello!’ Loki called out. ‘Where are…’

A raging wind tore his words out of his throat, but its fury was passing and as it dissipated a soft humming became audible.

‘Mum?’ Loki mumbled.

The humming cut off abruptly and an unfamiliar voice replied, ‘Ah, no. Forgive me, your highness, I didn’t mean to wake you.’

Loki scrunched up his face and forced his eyes open. Once the worst of the bleariness receded, he could just make out a woman in a trainee healer’s uniform standing over his bed. Everything past her was lost to shadow.

‘It’s still early,’ the trainee said. ‘You should try to get more sleep if you can.’

Someone had tucked him in and too thoroughly at that. The blanket was so tight, the edge of it pressed against the base of his throat. With a groan, he pulled at the fabric until it gave way and he no longer felt in danger of suffocation.

Still, he didn’t feel right — it was as if he watched the world through a veil of fog. They must have given him something. Loki’s heart leapt in relief when he learnt he would be sedated for the surgery; he had assumed the spur remnant would have to be removed the same way the healers had dealt with the spurs the day he was originally injured. Now he wasn’t so sure he ought to have been as pleased as he had been. He had a vague memory of waking up once already, but to the best of his recollection, he had drifted off again almost at once. Even keeping his eyes open was a trial at the moment.

‘Do I-I…’ Before the fog had set in, there had been a question — a very pressing question, but his throat was bone dry and his mind refused to produce a single coherent thought.

‘Hey, it’ll be all right. Your dad’s just here taking a nap, I can wake him up if you’d like,’ the trainee said.

‘No,’ Loki replied after a long pause. He tried to swallow; it physically hurt. ‘No, not him, don’t. But water? Please?’

‘Of course, your highness.’

The healer slipped into shadow; Loki was almost lost to his dreams again by the time she returned. She propped him up and held the cup of water up to his lips. The first few sips were heavenly, clearing a lingering foul aftertaste in his mouth and soothing the dryness in his throat. It was so much effort though. Loki drank about half a cup and then slumped back onto the mattress.

The trainee healer pulled his blanket back up to his shoulders. ‘Why don’t you close your eyes now and try to relax, your highness. You need to rest.’

 

 

It was late afternoon by the time Loki stopped drifting in and out of consciousness. Rubbing at his eyes in a vain attempt to shake the lingering wooziness, he pulled himself up until he sat with his back rested against the headboard of his bed. He was in the children’s ward this time — he recognised the cutesy drawings painted onto the walls. At least none of the other beds in the room were occupied; he was in no mood for making conversation.

Life, however, wasn’t fair and he had all of a minute to himself before Eir walked into the room with a lidded cup in her hands. Eir looked about as weary as Loki felt. She set the cup down on Loki’s bedside table, then pulled up a chair over to his bed.

‘How are you doing, darling?’ she asked.

‘I’m fine. Much better, thanks.’

Eir’s lips drew tighter together. ‘We’ve removed the remaining shard of the spur and have cleaned out as much of the infection as we could, but considering the extent of the work that had to be done, I have my doubts you’re just fine less than a day later. How do you really feel? I trust you realise I don’t want any lies and half-truths from you this time around.’

‘The left leg kind of aches,’ Loki conceded. He tried to wriggle his toes and found the resulting movement sluggish. But honestly, he was just relieved he still had all his limbs. A horrid thought had crossed his mind as the healers had been about to begin – his father could have been right and his leg was beyond saving. Loki wouldn’t have known until too late. ‘It’s a different sort of ache to what it was. I don’t know, I guess just less painful than before overall.’

‘Speak up when it gets worse. We’ll give you another dose of pain reliever.’

Loki had no intention of asking for anything for the pain, but he didn’t want to argue. Instead, he asked, ‘How long am I to stay here?’

‘Until I’m convinced you’re back to full health.’

‘That sounds ominous.’

Loki immediately wished he could take back his words because Eir’s expression slipped from her usual terse look to outright anger. ‘Every lie has its price. How am I to know you are giving an honest answer when I ask you a question? You have deceived me, your father and everyone else once before. I’m not taking any chances this time, so you’ll stay here until I’m fully satisfied with your condition.’

‘I’m sorry about before,’ Loki replied in a low tone. He had a feeling no amount of apologies would placate Eir. Or his father for that matter. ‘I won’t do that again.’

‘Why did you do it in the first place?’ When Loki gave her no answer, Eir sighed and tried a more conciliatory tone. ‘I think maybe you didn’t intend things to play out as they did, is that right? Can you tell me this: how long have you been vanishing your food?’

‘A while.’

‘And why would you start doing that?’

Loki drew his arms around himself and pressed his fingers into the side of his ribcage. ‘After I got injured, the smell of food kept making me feel queasy. Asta and Caunas and father kept lecturing on about how I needed to eat more, which was really annoying. So I vanished the food and that was that, no more lectures or Asta shouting at me.’

‘You should have said you had issues with nausea. It can be a side-effect of the sedative you were given and it can also be a sign of infection. Between this, the pain and the fever, we should have caught the infection from that leftover shard of spur far, far earlier. But —’

‘I said I’m sorry, didn’t I? It was a stupid thing to do. All right, I get it,’ Loki muttered. He let his head tilt to the side until the back of his skull was pressed against the headboard. If only Eir would leave; he just wanted to get back to sleep and never think about bilgesnipes or healers again.

‘I’m sure you do. But I’m afraid that I simply don’t understand what happened. You weren’t honest about how you were feeling and you put up spells to hide how ill you were looking, actively sabotaging your recovery. Why do all this? Could you please explain this to me, Loki?’

Perhaps on a different day, when his mind wasn’t addled with pain relievers, sedatives and whatever else they had given him since the previous evening. All he could manage now was to swallow the painful lump growing in his throat and blink away the pressure building up behind his eyes. He had only tried to be what he was supposed to be, the kind of son his father would be proud of. Now his father was furious and only more disappointed.

Loki dug his fingers deeper into the sides of his chest. ‘It doesn’t matter why.’

‘I disagree,’ Eir replied. She reached for him, but Loki leant away from her. ‘It matters to me very much.’

‘Why?’ he shot back.

That gave Eir pause and when her answer finally came, there was a hesitant undertone to it, ‘Frankly, covering up illness like this is unusual behaviour for someone your age. It’s worrying and I wonder if there was something else going on in your life.’

‘Like what?’ Loki said. But it was clear to him now that Eir wouldn’t cease her questions until she had some answer from him, so he didn’t wait for her answer. ‘I didn’t think it was all that bad, that’s why I didn’t say anything. And then I just didn’t want to be sick anymore, so I acted like I wasn’t.’

‘Is there nothing —’

‘No.’ Loki ground his teeth. ‘I’m really tired. Please, can I just go back to sleep?’

 

 

The sun had long since set by the time both negotiating teams had stumbled out of the negotiation room. After six hours with nary a break, the majority of the participants hurried to the very belated dinner waiting for them. Odin strode in the opposite direction; his day was not yet done.

A trainee healer greeted him politely at the entrance to the Medical Wing and was quick to run and fetch Eir.

‘Loki’s doing better,’ Eir said before he even voiced the question that had been nagging at him throughout the day. She stripped off a pair of silk gloves and shoved them into the pocket of her coat. ‘He drifted off to sleep about twenty minutes ago. It’s probably best not to disturb him; he needs all the rest he can get. Would you like some tea? You rather look like the elves are getting the best of you.’

‘No, we’re getting the best of the elves, I assure you,’ Odin replied. The accuracy of this claim was debatable. The Asgardian negotiating party had made two major concessions over the course of the day, but he hoped that these short-term defeats would work in Asgard’s favour in the long term. ‘But when my Chief Healer suggests I have tea, I dare not refuse.’

Eir chuckled and led him towards her office. It was a cramped space with a desk in the middle and a long bench, which was crowded with beakers and bottles labelled in Eir’s spidery scrawl, stretched out across the back of the room. Along the side walls Eir had screens projecting images of every key room in the Medical Wing, giving her a constant overview of everything happening within her domain.

Odin tried to find Loki in those screens. The room where Eir had placed him was darkened; Odin could just make out a lumpy shape atop one of the beds. There was no sign of movement. As Odin sunk into a creaky, but comfortable seat opposite Eir’s desk, he asked, ‘How is he really? Is he eating?’

‘His fever is lower and he says he’s in less pain than he was yesterday. As to eating, not so much, only a nutrition replacement potion. He’s scarcely been awake for more than an hour at a time today and it sounds like he hasn’t been eating properly ever since he was originally injured. It will take a few days to work up to full-size meals.’

‘What do you mean “sounds like”?’

‘He had persistent nausea ever since he was injured and decided to vanish his food rather than deal with the cause of the nausea. It’s about as much as I’ve managed to pry out of him.’

‘Wonderful.’ Odin rubbed circles into his right temple. ‘Has he been uncooperative?’

‘Not as such.’ Somewhere from among the forest of bottles and beakers on the bench, Eir excavated a small kettle and a box of loose leaf tea. She filled the kettle and set it atop a slightly raised platform on the far left-hand side of the bench. The heating mechanism built into the bench worked quickly; within moments water started to bubble inside the kettle. ‘He hasn’t been intransigent with me or my staff, but he’s reluctant to answer our questions. Honestly, he doesn’t want to be in the Medical Wing a second longer than he has to.’

‘Do you think that’s why? Not to be impolite, but it’s not uncommon for children to be frightened to go to a healer. Loki’s never displayed signs of that before, but just think of his last experience here — you had to dig out foreign material out of his shattered legs without any pain relief. It would be understandable if he didn’t want to return.’

Steam began to stream out of the kettle’s nozzle. Eir set out two deep mugs and poured in the water. She didn’t offer Odin anything with the tea nor did she add anything to her own mug, which left him wondering if she didn’t have honey or milk on hand, or if she remembered he drank his tea black. He rarely drank tea, but Frigga had long been in a habit of consuming copious amounts when she had worrisome matters on her mind. Inevitably, when one of the boys was sick and Frogga’s mug never got the chance to grow cold, Odin too ended up with a mug of tea in his hand.

Eir took up a chair next to Odin rather than her proper one behind her desk. ‘Possibly. Yet that doesn’t mesh particularly well with the way he carried himself around any of the healers here. But I have no other theories to offer you. All I got out of him was he was tired of being sick, which doesn’t seem like the full story.’

‘I don’t want to say that Loki’s difficult.’ Odin sighed and sipped at his tea. ‘Both boys make enough trouble to make sure I won’t have a single hair left on my head by the time they are grown. Yet I understand at least what Thor was thinking when he ventures on whatever the latest manifestation of his youthful foolishness might be. Loki, on the other hand. Trying to retrace the path of Loki’s thoughts is rather like chasing a weasel through twelve miles of forest thicket.’

‘He’s a smart boy, sometimes too smart for his own good.’

‘Do you think I should try to speak to him?’ Odin asked and at once shook his head. ‘No, he won’t tell me anything more than he told you. We’ll wait until Frigga returns; she does better with him than I do.’

‘Almost all children are closer to one parent than the other, there’s nothing to be ashamed about in that,’ Eir replied. She gave him an appraising look before she went on. ‘However, if you are in the mood for self-flagellation, remember this: you told me to release the boy prematurely and I acquiesced. You can interrogate Loki as long as you like about why he didn’t say anything, but the responsibility ultimately lies solely with the two of us.’

‘What of the healer you assigned to him? He must have been profoundly incompetent not to notice Loki’s lies.’

Odin had already had Asta informed that she would not be supervising Loki or Thor ever again and her future employment in the palace as a whole was under review. He would have fired her outright, but he was loath to do so until he had Frigga’s approval. Asta technically was in the queen’s, not the king’s, employ. The dim-witter healer Loki had played day after day had to be dealt with too.

‘I had to choose someone who wouldn’t be interested enough to pick at the matter were they to notice something off about Loki. You directed me to do as much: keep the truth from getting out even if you have to compromise on the child’s health.’

‘That was never my intention.’

‘But that was the implication, your majesty.’ Eir gulped at her tea. ‘You need to tell him, for both your sakes. A relationship founded on a lie seldom prospers.’

It took every ounce of self-control Odin possessed not to leap out of his seat and utter exactly what he thought of Eir. From the day she had found out Loki’s heritage, she had been incessant in muttering in Frigga’s ear that Loki should be told. Had Eir had her way, Loki would have known he was a frost giant before he knew how to walk. In her opinion, it was healthier for a person to know who they are from the beginning. Odin had lost track many, many years ago of the number of disagreements he had had with his wife because of Eir’s meddling.

‘How do you imagine it would have worked?’ Odin said. He had tried to keep his tone calm, but his irritation seeped through. ‘Young children cannot keep a secret. Within days it would have been on the mouths of everyone in the palace, then the whole of Asgard and before the month’s end throughout the other realms.

‘The politics of Loki’s very existence are fraught. So far, Laufey has had the wits not to challenge Asgard again, but there are restless factions on Vanaheim who are looking for an alliance with Jotunheim. If Laufey were to find out that Loki lives, he would demand him back. It doesn’t matter that he abandoned Loki to the elements; he won’t accept his off-spring in my possession. And when I don’t hand Loki over, Laufey will find enough rage in that cold husk of his to make that alliance with the Vanaheim rebels. And we will have war across two realms.’

Eir offered Odin a mirthless half-smile. ‘It’s a dark vision of the future you paint, but I don’t think it’ll come to pass. Loki’s growing up. He is old enough now to keep vital facts to himself.’

‘I’ll tell him one day; I always planned to do so. But not yet.’

‘This has nothing to do with politics,’ Eir replied. ‘You’re worried about his reaction.’

‘He won’t take it well.’ Odin brought the tea up to his lips and set the mug back down again, suddenly there was nothing in the universe he wanted less than tea.

‘No, he won’t.’ Eir sighed. ‘I think you’re right to be concerned, but I wouldn’t assume it’ll be easier when he’s older. There’s no such thing as the perfect time to shatter your child’s very world.’

Odin pushed his mug away. ‘It’s not as dire as that. Thank you for the tea and your advice nevertheless. I should retire and prepare for tomorrow. I’ll try to visit Loki again in the morning.’

_Bloody meddling woman._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I heard some fanfic writers are setting up a discord for their stories. Is this a thing anyone is interested in? I can put something together if you guys like.


	10. X

‘Loki!’ Thor shouted as he burst in.

He wore an old tunic, the sleeves of which were too short for him and drips of something brown peppered the frayed embroidery on the front of the garment. Somewhere back out in the corridor, Agmundr, one of the two trainee healers on duty today, urged Thor to keep the volume down. Thor paid Agmundr no heed. Loki wasn’t even sure his brother had heard the trainee; Thor’s focus was on the woven basket in his hands.

‘I have something for you,’ Thor said brightly, then narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you doing? Trying to climb out the window?’

‘I think the elves are leaving. Or some of them at least.’

‘Yeah, I heard they were wrapping up things yesterday.’

‘Come and see. I’m pretty sure the Bifrost is about to open.’ Loki jerked his head towards the open window. He thoroughly hated the children’s ward. He couldn’t stand the dull-eyed pixies and over-sized dandelions painted onto every wall, or the stiff mattresses, or the over-starched sheets, or the constant smell of medication. But the room did offer a good view of the observatory and the bridge that connected it to the city.

‘It’s just the Bifrost,’ Thor replied. Yet he walked over to stand beside Loki and set his basket down on the windowsill. No matter how many times you saw it, you still couldn’t help but marvel at the Bifrost’s bright colours and the sheer magnitude of magic contained within it.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be some delay. Loki could make out the many people and horses milling about the entrance to the Observatory, but not much else. Sighing, he asked, ‘So what did you bring in here? Does it have teeth?’ 

Thor gave him a bewildered look, which Loki thought was entirely unwarranted. The last time Thor dragged in a basket like that, the basket had held a polecat and the critter wasn’t at all pleased by his confinement. Thor had nearly gotten his nose bitten off when he lifted the lid.

‘No?’ Thor said. ‘It’s just a tray of pastries from the kitchens. An apprentice got distracted and forgot to take them out in time, so they are a bit burned on top. Too burnt to be served, but really, they are barely burnt at all. The cooks said I should take them for you since you’re still not well.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Yeah, you’ve been saying that for a while now,’ Thor replied, rolling his eyes. ‘Everyone keeps asking how you are, you know. It’s getting kind of irritating. Well, do you want some or not?’

He pulled back the cloth that covered the basket and the sweet scent of freshly baked goods wafted into the air. Loki couldn’t resist the temptation and peered inside. In the basket were seven six-inch-long pear buns, which indeed, did look somewhat singed across the top.

That wasn’t a fatal defect. Loki picked out one and, after pulling off the singed part of the pastry, bit into the bun. It was still as warm as if it had been pulled out of the oven mere minutes ago and the filling was a masterful conglomeration of flavours. Despite the name, pear bun stuffing was actually made by mixing pears with walnuts, raisins, figs and anise.

‘This is pretty good,’ Loki said. ‘So is this what you were doing all afternoon, stuffing yourself with pastry?’

‘Of course not,’ Thor said. ‘They made me peel carrots, scrub pots and all kind of stuff like that. But it’s not so bad. There’s a new apprentice there, Sindri, and he has much the same tasks as I do. We were competing to see who’d finish first. He did, but I think with some more practice, I can beat him. Oh, and then one of the assistant cooks showed me how to pluck a goose. There were so many feathers!’

‘This punishment sounds like a real trial for you,’ Loki scoffed.

The pear bun lost some of its lustre. First, he nearly died because of Thor’s idiocy. Now, a week after his relapse, Loki remained a prisoner in this ward. The last two days, Eir had permitted him to go to a few of his classes: history, mathematics and rhetoric. But he had to be accompanied by one of the healers or a palace guard between the Medical Wing and the classroom. And when he wasn’t in class, he was to remain in the Medical Wing. Meanwhile, Thor was enjoying unfettered access to kitchen stores and tormenting dead birds.

‘Hey,’ Thor said defensively, ‘my hands are all cut up and sore from all that peeling and plucking. And I have all of my maths work to do for tomorrow still. I don’t want to hold a pen, let alone think about formulas and equations.’ He reached for another bun, but then paused and glanced up at Loki. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve done it? You can have one of my buns if I can copy off you.’

‘Just the one? I saved your life and you made the whole thing out to be my fault.’

‘But I shot the bilgesnipe. And I apologised…’ Thor sighed. ‘Fine, two buns.’

‘Deal. But I haven’t finished the exercises myself yet, so you’re going to have to wait until I’m done,’ Loki replied and bit down on the inside of his lower lip so Thor wouldn’t catch him grinning like a fool. 

He would let happily Thor copy the work they’d been assigned, but he would also make sure there wasn’t a single correct answer in those workings. Laziness always won Thor over, so there was no chance he would check the answers before handing them to the mathematics tutor tomorrow morning.

Perhaps this was a petty trick, but Loki needed something to brighten his mood.

 

 

 

‘Drink it and then we’ll play,’ Lunda said as she moved the tall, half-full glass of the nutrient replenisher closer to Loki.

He cringed at the yellowish, frothy liquid. ‘I’ll drink half of what’s left now and the rest after the game, ok? I mean, there’s so much of it still and I ate everything on the plate… not sure I could keep it down.’

She didn’t look convinced, but Loki had lost interest anyway. His father had appeared at the doorway, dressed in his riding gear and carrying a bulky pouch in his arms. After a momentary hesitation, he stepped into the staffroom.

‘Healer Lunda, Loki, how do you do?’ Loki’s father asked.

He glanced about; Loki supposed he had never been in this part of the Medical Wing before. Only healers and trainees were usually in here. But Lunda seemed to guess that if Loki had to stay in the children’s ward much longer, he would find a sharp object and gouge out the eyes of every pixie painted onto the walls, so she had brought him out to eat dinner with her in the staffroom.

‘I’m well, thank you, your majesty,’ Lunda replied. She rose from the table and began clearing the empty dinner plates. ‘I have to check on a couple of things, so I’d best leave you two to chat. Loki, don’t forget that you need to drink that.’

‘No, I think we’d best move to Loki’s room. Why don’t you bring the drink with you?’ Odin replied.

Loki groaned. That nutrient replenisher was the bane of his day. It tasted vile and the texture was oddly gelatinous. Of course, there was no arguing with either his father or Lunda about it — he would only end up receiving enough lecture about how he had already jeopardised his health. He was thoroughly sick of hearing about that. He picked up the glass and followed his father out into the corridor.

‘Lunda and I were just going to play chess,’ Loki said. ‘It’s a Midgardian game rather like Askelvo, but with a smaller board and more rules about how all the different pieces move. Do you know it? It’s pretty fun, but you have to think a lot.’

‘I’m familiar with it. We can play a game or two sometime if you like.’ Odin ruffled Loki’s hair, then his arm settled on Loki’s shoulder.

Loki peered up at his father; he seemed to in be a better mood today than he had been in a long while. ‘That’d be great. But do you have the time? Thor and I saw the Bifrost open earlier. Are all the elves gone now? Is that why you’re here so early?’

‘I’m not early, I’m late. I’d hoped to be done with the elves by the early afternoon, but there was one delay after another.’  Odin lifted up the package he still held in his right hand. ‘Speaking of the elves, this is actually for you from Prince Amhlaith.’

They had reached the children’s ward. Loki turned on the lights and was about to set the glass of nutrient replenisher down on his bedside table, but his father shook his head. He pointed to the glass and then to the pouch. Loki sighed. He tipped the liquid into his mouth, chugging it down in sips as large as he could make them. He willed himself not to gag. One of the trainee healers had tried to explain what was in the drink, but Loki still didn’t understand how something could be too salty and too sweet as once.

‘It’s the foulest thing I’ve ever tasted,’ Loki said as he set the now empty glass aside and plonked down on his bed.

‘Is that so? I remember there was once a period of some months where you developed a fondness for sand, garden dirt and earthworms.’

‘Thor ate an earthworm on a dare only a few months ago.’

His father let out a weary scoff as he handed over the pouch. It was so heavy, Loki nearly dropped it in surprise. The pouch itself was heavily padded to protect its contents. Peering at the embroidery, he couldn’t make sense of it, but then, the elves liked abstract imagery so maybe it wasn’t supposed to make sense. Loki tugged at the crimson thread that fastened the pouch. Inside, he found a voluminous book and a folded letter.

_To his royal highness, Prince Loki of Asgard,_

_It was disquieting to hear of your sudden relapse and your continued illness. I, personally and on behalf of all the people of Alfheim, wish you a quick recovery. In the meantime, perhaps this small gift will bring you a measure of diversion. A sickbed can be a dull and dreary place._

_I hope we will have an opportunity in the near future to renew our acquaintance._

_With the warmest of regards,_

_Amhlaith, Crown Prince of Alfheim and First Duke of Skorsfjord_

Loki handed the letter over to his father to read and turned to the book, which was a good two inches thick, with a dark-grey cover and the title _Alfheim and Asgard: A Multi-perspective Analysis of Three Millennia of Turbulent Relations_ printed across the cover in a slightly darker shade of grey ink.  Loki ran his thumb across the pages and saw only endless inches of small text flick by as the pages slid under his thumb.

‘It’s kind of him to send a gift,’ Loki said. His thoughts of Prince Amhlaith were mixed. The elf had thoroughly entranced him with his illusions back in the training room, but Loki was also certain Amhlaith had been the one to tell his father that he had been out of bed that night. It wasn’t that hard to figure out — no one else had seen him out and about. ‘This seems like an informative read.’

Loki’s father turned the letter over as if he expected to find some cryptic message on the blank side of the paper. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure that kindness was the motivating factor here.’ He must have caught Loki’s confused look because he went on, ‘Elves are a wily lot. And Amhlaith’s older sister died in peculiar circumstances not so long ago. It’s best not to take anything he does at face value.’

 _You_ _’d think that he was up to something, he would’ve picked a book that isn’t going to send me to sleep in the first five minutes._

Loki idly flicked through the book again until the book fell open onto the inner title page: _A Practitioner_ _’s Guide to Advanced Illusions and Deceptions_.

_Oh. I see now._

Loki snapped the book shut and peered up at his father. Thankfully, Odin was rereading the letter and hadn’t noticed Loki’s eyes, which had to be as round as saucers. If this book was what the title promised, there was no way his father would let him keep it.

‘So did elves all go back to Alfheim now?’ Loki wrapped his arms around the book and pressed it to his chest.

‘I believe three remained to finish off some work. But I think we’ve had more than enough elves lately, haven’t we? There are some other things I wanted to speak to you about.’

Cold dread settled into the pit of Loki’s stomach. The evening his father had brought him back to the Medical Wing, he had said they would talk later about how Loki hadn’t said anything about his aching leg or his nausea. He’d certainly brought up the matter since, but he hadn’t focused on it the way Eir or even Lunda had. Loki had quietly concluded that his father had decided his imprisonment in the Medical Wing and the healers’ nagging were substitute enough. Except, apparently not.

Loki relinquished his hold on Amhlaith’s book, pushing it well out of his father’s reach, and squared his shoulders. ‘All right.’

‘I thought this was worth a measure of forewarning,’ his father said. ‘I’m in the process of selecting a new combat-master for you. I’ve pared the list of candidates down to four and I think we should have the right person chosen in the next few days.’

‘For me, as in for the class or just for me?’

‘For you to work one-on-one with.’

‘On top of the normal class?’

‘Instead of,’ his father replied.  He pulled the end of the bed neighbouring Loki’s forward and sat down across from Loki. ‘At least for now. If in the future you want to devote some extra time to your combat lessons, we can discuss it and see what arrangements can be made. In the short term, once Eir believes you are recovered enough, you’ll have private lessons with the new instructor during the aftern—’

‘Can’t I have lessons in the morning, before other classes instead? Then I can attend the ones with Master Leifur too.’

‘If you want to get up early, that’s fine. But you won’t be returning to group classes until Eir and I are certain you won’t hurt yourself trying to keep up with the rest of the class.’

Loki ducked his head low so his father wouldn’t see his face. His father, however, wasn’t fooled. ‘Loki,’ he said in a slow and patient tone, which just sent Loki’s stomach twisting. The way his father spoke, it was like he thought Loki was about to burst into tears. ‘Child, listen to me. This is not a punishment nor is this an arrangement to be ashamed about.’

‘How is it not? You don’t think I’m good enough to keep up with the others!’

‘That’s true, you can’t. I think you know that as well as I do.’

Loki had to swallow the painful lump in his throat before he could reply. ‘I’ll keep trying until I can.’

‘I know you will,’ the tone of his father’s voice sharpened. ‘Norns be gracious, child, you’ve never done anything by half-measure. I just don’t want you to maim yourself or one of your training partners in the trying. I repeat — this is not a punishment! Many soldiers work on their form away from their peers for a time when they recover from injury. I’ve done it myself. And if you don’t like the new combat-master, I’ll arrange for someone else to work with you.’

‘I bet I’ll hate him,’ Loki muttered.

‘We’ll see.’ His father chuckled. ‘But there’s something else too and perhaps it’ll cheer you up.’

Loki couldn’t see what could cheer him up. His father had just admitted that he thought Loki too incompetent to even train alongside his peers. He just wanted to yell at his father to go away and curl up in his bed. Or perhaps to kick some of those demented pixies until they weren’t smiling anymore.

‘You’re not curious at all?’ his father pressed.

‘No, not really.’

‘You sure? Well, I suspect I’d best tell you anyway – your mother will return from Adra Taeral tomorrow morning.’

‘What? A-are you sure?’ Loki asked, but he couldn’t contain his grin even as he spoke.

‘That’s what she told me.’ His father said. ‘And I had a thought. Since you and Thor had been on your own so much lately, why don’t you both take a day off your lessons and spend the day with your mother? She’s missed you both a great deal.’

‘Will Eir let me out for the whole day?’

‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll speak with her.’

Loki leapt up and wrapped his arms around his father. ‘Thank you!’

His father drew him closer and next Loki knew, he sat in his father’s lap with his father’s hands firmly wrapped around him. Loki’s heart pumped out of sheer excitement. He would have to wait an extra day before he got to see how things played out when their mathematics tutor saw that Thor had given the wrong answer for every question in their homework, but it was nothing. He hadn’t seen his mother properly in so long; even the new combat-master seemed only minor annoyance all of a sudden.

Loki’s father sighed and ran his fingers through Loki’s hair. ‘I think now everything should get back to the way it was. Or at least it will very soon. That’d be good, wouldn’t it?’

Loki’s thoughts flashed to the raised patches of skin across his legs where scarring from the bilgesnipe spurs still remained and, if the healers were correct, would take years to fully fade. But he didn’t want to think about bilgesnipes or his injuries tonight, not when he had so much to look forward to tomorrow.

He just nodded eagerly. ‘It’d be great.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and most important -- thank you for reading this odd little fic!
> 
> It's probably well past time to explain how this story came about. Back when I was writing 'Above All Shadows', I had trouble with Odin's characterisation, so I ended up writing 'Another Sleepless Night', which is essentially Odin angsting about where he went wrong with raising Loki. Having posed that question, I was then stuck with the question rattling around my head for months.
> 
> Odin is often portrayed as an abusive tyrant in fanfic (in light of this, I'm still conflicted about whether this fic deserves the "Odin's A+ Parenting" tag), but looking at the movies alone, I don't really see it. He genuinely went off at Loki once -- at the beginning of Thor 2, after Loki had killed a lot of people. Kind of, fair enough there? Murder is not cool. Yet back in Thor 1, Loki's immediate response to finding out he was adopted was "this is why you always favoured Thor". So, essentially, the premise of this fic was: assuming Odin started out as a caring and well-intentioned father to both his sons, how did Loki end up being such an emotional wreck?
> 
> I'm not sure that I entirely achieved what I set out to do, but I won't deny writing mini Loki's machinations has been fun.


End file.
